


Better this way

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers: Rescue Bots Academy (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Drama, M/M, Mild Language, happy ending??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27127685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: He realized that he loved Hot Shot and he hoped to know if the other recruit felt the same. Then some unexpected events reveal a secret Wedge prayed would never come to light and his whole life is upended. Mistrust, hatred... Can Wedge's life ever return to normal? And what of his poor, shattered spark?
Relationships: Wedge/Hot Shot
Comments: 40
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**C.M.D: Here it is... Been building my way up to a chapter fic since my last few little RBA oneshots and we've finally got to it. Not sure how many chapters this will be -the remainder of season 2 doesn't seem to be uploaded anywhere and with no indication of when it will be available online for streaming, well, I'm taking the opportunity to run with all the plot bunnies breeding in my head. So please enjoy the start of this canon-divergent, slashy adventure featuring our favourite recruits!**

Mornings at the Academy started about the same every orn. First, there was the alarming wake-up bell at six am, morning refuel and personal maintenance checks (which Hot Shot admittedly skipped often in favour of catching up on unfinished homework), followed by either regular class or one-on-one mentoring, chores and evening refuel. Downtime optional. First year's schedule had been easy to adjust to; second year meant half a week, Hot Shot was _supposed_ to be learning from Heatwave, but often was left with independent assignments instead. Those hardly filled up an orn for the recruit, which meant, after finishing his chores, the quadruple-changer had _too_ much time on his servos. Boredom was inevitable.

Putting away the mop for the orn, Hot Shot turned and faced the empty hallway, wondering just what in Primus' name he was going to do now.

Video games? He'd played them all several times now. Unlocked all the achievements too.

Television? It was re-run season...

Read? What, was he Medix?

Play some Cube? Yeah, 'cause it would be super fun by himself...

The red youngling vented loudly in frustration, shuttering his optics and banging his helm on the utility room door..

"That a new hobby for you, huh?"

"W-wedge!," Hot Shot yelped, jumping at the sudden vocalizer. He barely caught his balance as he turned to face the orange youngling, scratching the back of his helm awkwardly. "Umm, h-hey... You, uh, you're back awfully early," he stuttered, kicking himself mentally for his fumbling.

Wedge, fresh from his teaching session with Bumblebee -and carrying the mud to prove it- shrugged as he approached the other recruit, smiling. "Wrapped up sooner than we anticipated so I headed back for the orn," he said.

"Oh, that's... surprising," Hot Shot commented, puzzled. "But Bumblebee is your hero! Why aren't you making excuses to stay with him longer?"

"Oh, eh...," Wedge faltered for a moment, before he cheerfully grinned again, "Well, ya know, 'Bee has to do his own thing elsewhere. Anyway, what are you up to? I noticed everyone else is gone still."

"Yeah, they're all... being mentored," the quadruple-changer grumbled slightly, dropping his gaze to the side.

He could hear Wedge vent softly at his response. "Heatwave not available?," he asked, just as quiet.

"Heatwave's not even _here_! I mean, he's a legendary Rescuer and all, but sim missions and chores, Wedge?," Hot Shot erupted emotionally. "How is that mentoring? What am I learning other than that the 'awesome chief' is too busy, even for me?!" He faced the front-loader for half an astrosecond, before he realized coolant was slicking his optics; spinning away from his friend in horror and hurrying to get away.

"S-sorry, I'll just let you go get showered off a-and-"

A firm servo grabbed the red youngling's arm before he could flee. "Hot Shot, do... d-do you wanna do something? Maybe go for a race?," Wedge offered, closing the gap between the pair.

Hot Shot felt his shoulders sag. "I... I can't even do that," he answered, stifling a sob, "Picked a jet f-for Heatwave's sim assignment this orn."

He felt Wedge reach out to grasp his other arm as well, turning the shorter mech towards himself. Stubbornly, Hot Shot kept his helm bowed. Partly embarrassed that he'd gotten upset in front of others, mostly afraid that the orange recruit would think of him less.

"Listen, it's... it's been a slag of a week," the front-loader began, his thumbs rubbing soothing strokes into his companion's arms. Hot Shot did his best not to squirm at the odd sensation they made. "I mean, with us all getting sucked into an ancient Cybertronian vault and facing certain death and all, then nearly getting exposed in Milford... So, why don't we just catch up on some downtime- just us."

Primus, the quadruple-changer didn't need to be reminded of how much of a nuisance his friends sometimes thought he was. "Wedge, I just," he said, venting hard, "I don't know. I'm too tired to play Cube or some video games. I think I just need some rest." He shot a look up to the orange youngling, hoping he could convey how exhausted he really was. What the red recruit found instead was his teammate in deep contemplation -optics slightly averted, lip components quirked in a bit of a sideways smirk- as Wedge hummed thoughtfully.

"Alright," he beamed, optics flashing to Hot Shot excitedly as he came out of his musings. Hot Shot tried to ignore the way his neural net crackled sharply under the other's bright gaze. "If you need to just chill, then I won't force you to do something... Instead, you can rest on the bench while I train some more outside," the front-loader announced, switching his servo's grip and turning the pair towards the Academy exit.

The quadruple-changer tripped as he was pulled along, tugging uselessly to get his arm free from Wedge's grasp. "W-wait! Wedge, I said I was tired," he attempted to reason.

Wedge nodded, turning his helm just enough to send a smirk Hot Shot's way. "And I said I wouldn't force you to do an activity. That doesn't mean you can't keep me company while I burn off some extra energy," he replied smartly.

Hot Shot gaped wordlessly for a couple astroseconds, hunching his shoulders up to his helm shyly as the taller Autobot ushered him into the elevator. "Jeez, you are so clever," he grumbled sarcastically.

"Yeah, one of us has to be," the construction recruit quipped smugly.

The red youngling couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in return. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to sit outside for a bit. Several kliks later found the recruits out in the yard, basking in the sunshine at the outdoor gym. They shared a few rounds of conversation, going over missions, new Earth finds and general happenings at the Academy- the lines of dialogue passed back and forth lifting Hot Shot's mood considerably. It was unfortunate when they ran out of things to discuss, silence settling on the red youngling and disheartening him again.

Wedge was currently invested in his set of weights, the creak and clang of the shifting metal covering his companion's sigh. "...you sure can lift a lot," Hot Shot remarked dully.

"Yeah, I like to challenge myself," the orange recruit replied, turning his helm and smiling at his friend.

Hot Shot tried not to roll his optical sensors. "Is it really a challenge, though? You keep carrying around the same immobile set of pounds," he pointed out. "You're less likely to move such a solid, sturdy object in real missions. Things move: they shift and settle differently than when they started."

The front-loader paused in another rep, mulling over what the shorter youngling had said. "You know... that's actually very smart."

The quadruple-changer vented long and hard this time. "Why does everyone act like that's so surprising every time? Like, jeez, I may not be uber studious like Medix and Whirl, but I'm not-" Hot Shot cut his little rant off with a yelp, grabbing the edge of the bench as it suddenly shifted beneath him. He barely had the chance to process that it was Wedge who was moving the seat, before the bench and red youngling were held high above the front-loader's helm.

"We-wedge!," Hot Shot squeaked fretfully, "W-what are you d-doing?"

"Well, it's like you said," Wedge answered innocently. "Most objects in the field aren't going to be one, solid concentrated mass; I need to be practicing with more fluid subjects. Thank you for volunteering, Hot Shot. Just don't wiggle too much now though."

Having to peer down at his friend from between his own legs was an experience that made his tanks flip-flop as though he'd swollen a swarm of nanites. Cheekplates heating uncomfortably, Hot Shot leaned back and out of sight, resetting his vocalizer a couple times until he was capable of formulating a sentence again. "O-okay, okay. I get it: you're really, really strong. N-now can you put me down? You don't need to show off!"

"Whaaat?," came the orange youngling's drawn out response. "Hot Shot, I would never do something just to brag."

"Wedge!," the quadruple-changer whined.

Wedge's grip on the bench shifted jerkily, causing the red recruit to fold over in alarm so he wouldn't fall, forcing his face back over the edge of the seat and toward his companion once more. Beneath, Wedge was staring up at the shorter Autobot, his expression soft but serious. "...Hot Shot, nobody thinks ill of you. I know we all had a rough start... and I was especially hard on you, but... Time and time again, you've proven yourself invaluable to this team," the front-loader said, not a hint of a joke or jeer in his tone. "You've got the drive, the smarts, and in particular, the empathy, needed to be a Rescue Bot and do it right."

Hot Shot felt his cheekplates burn hotter, wanting to avert his gaze but finding his optics locked with Wedge's pale blue ones. "W-wedge, I-I'm not..."

"Hot Shot, you always step out of spotlight, putting the team before fame. You've even taken the blame on yourself to save us from trouble!," Wedge interrupted sharply. "I won't pretend to know what Heatwave's up to, but clearly he's forgotten that being a Rescuer is more than just duty and protocol. It also takes _Spark_. And we're all the better for having you here, Hot Shot. There's no one else I'd want by my side every emergency."

Silence fell after the orange youngling's words, something powerful swelling in the open space between them. It was as if a spell had them both enthralled; the quadruple-changer's spark pulsing in low, steady waves as it was tugged ever closer to the unknown. The red Autobot's optics were dimming in the dream-like haze, his companion's mouth parting slowly...

"Recruits!"

The sudden shout scared both younglings; Hot Shot nearly toppling to the ground before he regained his balance, Wedge fixing his footing to hold the both of them up still. Together, they faced Boulder as he marched over to the pair, his face concerned and stern all at once.

"Wedge, using your fellow recruit as a weight is very careless of you," he scolded, reaching up and grabbing the red youngling. As he set him safely on the ground, Wedge was sheepishly placing the bench back where it belonged.

"Yes, Boulder, sir," Wedge mumbled.

"And letting yourself be put in unsafe positions to prove some point is equally as unwise of you, Hot Shot," Boulder added, crossing his arms in displeasure.

"Yes, sir," Hot Shot whispered.

"Now, I expect better of you two. So I'm not going to see you any more foolish displays of ego, right?," he asked. Both recruits nodded. At the muted reply, the bulldozer sighed, smiling kindly. "Alright, recruits. Head inside and finish your chores. There's only a few Earth cycles left before recharge."

Quickly, Wedge and Hot Shot headed back into the Academy, glancing at each other and sharing a nervous bout of giggles.

"S-sorry to almost get you in trouble there," Wedge apologized, nudging his companion lightly. "I meant what I said out there though. You're a great Rescuer."

Scratching an enflamed cheekplate, Hot Shot smiled back. "It's okay. T-thank you for cheering me up. What are you going to do now?"

The front-loader shrugged. "Well, I guess I better go complete my chores for the orn and get washed up, or I really will get disciplined," he replied. He paused as he turned to head for the utility room, casting another look to the red youngling.. "Meet up for a quick round of 'Space Invaders' before recharge?"

Hot Spot felt his chestplates swell at the idea of having a little more one-on-one time with his fellow teammate. "Yeah, that sounds great!," he agreed.

Wedge grinned back. "Cool. See you later!"

Then he was hurrying off, leaving the chipper Autobot to wave at his retreating backstruts.

**C.M.D: As a side note, I'm restructuring some of the episodes. If anyone watching them has realized like myself, they're not quite lined up in a chronological order, so I took some liberties on placing episodes here and there -such as putting the campfire episode before the vault of the primes episode and Hot Shot unlocking free-transform on his cog after they find more mul-T-cogs. Hope that nobody minds; I just prefer to have things more logical timeline-wise when inserting cannon with non-cannon elements. Also, since this is a sequel to Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots is actually tied into Robots in Disguise and henceforth Prime-verse too, characters like Ratchet and Grimlock will be more like their RID selves despite their cyberverse designs. No thanks to Hasbro for the conflicting imagery.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hot Shot stepped out of the Academy, squinting across the yard toward the training gym that Wedge was fond of. Even in the early morning light, it wasn't hard to see that the field was as empty as the construction recruit's recharge pod had been.

"I just don't get it...," the red youngling mumbled to himself, annoyed, "Where is he?!"

Hot Shot looked around the yard one last time in desperation, his search unsuccessful, dropping his gaze to the datapad in his servos. He had to do some studying for an upcoming exam with Heatwave in a few orns -one which he'd hoped that Wedge would be available to help him study for- but it seemed that he would have to do it alone. Like most things. Sighing, the quadruple-changer turned to head back inside.

"Bet if I needed someone to flaunt their ego, Wedge would show up," Hot Shot complained quietly to himself.

He stopped at once, feeling guilty at his own callous words. It wasn't right to make it out like the front-loader was arrogant and self-centered. That was Scorch... Wedge was not Scorch. Not in a million stellar cycles. Scorch was rude, a bully, egotistical and a manipulator. Wedge sometimes acted like a rusted aft, but he was compassionate, helpful and a good leader and advisor. And even with all that, the orange youngling could still be fun to hang with. Remembering some of the last couple games they had participated in made Hot Shot chuckle, replaying the memory files fondly.

Yet at the end of the playback, the red youngling found himself all alone again, standing in the middle of the Academy halls. Lip components turned downwards, Hot Shot glanced at his datapad a second time, spark pulsing weakly. Sure, Wedge was a much better friend than Scorch had clearly ever been... but maybe he was asking too much of his teammate? After all, the taller Autobot did have his own studies and life- Hot Shot couldn't expect Wedge to constantly be around to help him out in a bind or toss the Cube around with the quadruple-changer whenever he wanted it. Thinking that just made the red youngling more upset.

By Unicron's beard! He sounded like a sparkling in constant need of monitoring. Acknowledging that made him aggravated on top of being miserable. "Forget studying now," Hot Shot grumbled, shoving his datapad into subspace. "I'll just wing the exam, like I always do."

Turning abruptly, the recruit stomped off in the direction of the student lounge; he was going to go and shoot down a hundred, pixelated ships of dastaredly alien-

"Oww!" Hot Shot quickly backed up a step, rubbing his face where it had clanged against something hard. Since when did Academy walls move?!

"Hey, Hot Shot, are you okay?"

The quadruple-changer snapped to attention immediately, optics flaring brightly upon seeing the other mech standing before him. He hadn't run into a wall, he'd run right into the orange youngling! Wedge shuttered his optics slowly at his friend, his expression puzzled.

"Why are you wandering around the Academy blindly so early in the morning?," the front-loader asked.

"That's what I should be asking you!," Hot Shot pouted in return, crossing his arms irritably. "I've been looking for you since I onlined."

"Oh?," the taller recruit said, mimicking his smaller companion's posture jestingly, "How come?"

"I-i, um, t-that is...," the quadruple-changer stuttered, caught off-guard by the question. He felt his cheekplates heat rapidly, his engine turning over a couple times before settling for an uneasy rumbling. He noticed Wedge giving him a knowing look, driving the red Autobot's blush to deepen, averting his optics in a hurry.

"Sorry I wasn't around when you needed me. I was getting some extra tutoring lessons from Professor Perceptor," Wedge explained, relaxing his arms. "This was the only free time he had. Can I still be of help now?"

Hot Shot didn't reply right away, glancing back and forth between his teammate and the wall, torn by indecision. He didn't want to accept the orange youngling's assistance now, to spare himself the teasing, yet he'd be just as discontent if he lied and sent the front-loader away.

"Well, if you're sure you are okay..."

"No, I'm really not," the quadruple-changer groaned loudly. "I really need a study buddy 'cause I have an exam for my combi-cannon but I really have no clue how to get started and you know so much about combinations, but I'm kind of annoyed with you taunting me so I don't really know if I want your help now but-"

Wedge quickly reached out, clapping a servo over his companion's running mouth and cutting off his rambling. Hot Shot tried not to focus on how rough and firm the orange youngling's fingers felt pressed tightly across his plating.

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry that I teased you," the front-loader apologized sincerely. "I'd be happy to help you with your combi-cannon. This is about mixing equations, right?"

Hot Shot nodded minutely, careful not to dislodge his friend's servo. Wedge smiled wryly, pulling his servo away so that the red youngling could speak freely. Chuckling in embarrassment, Hot Shot reset his vocalizer, drawing his datapad out of subspace again. "U-uh, yeah. I have no idea how to make these other things that'll be on the exam, and seeing as you helped me with learning the first one, plus your expertise as a construction 'bot, you just seemed like the obvious choice," he explained in a rush.

Primus, could his face stop burning like a boiler every time Wedge gave him that smirk!

"A-anyways, do you wanna do this i-in the lounge?," he asked, stuttering a little.

"Hmm. I'm thinking one of the empty classrooms would be a better place to study in," Wedge suggested. "Less distractions or accidental interruptions from the others."

"S-sure!," Hot Shot chirped, his neural net crackling excitedly.

"Fantastic," the orange youngling grinned back. "Let me just grab a couple things from my room and I'll meet you at classroom D in a few kliks."

"Ye-yep," the quadruple-changer squeaked out this time, feeling incredibly flustered more and more by the astrosecond. Oh, sweet Solus, what was wrong with him?! "Classroom D. Be there. Yep. Studying! Awesome!"

And then he rushed off before Wedge could reply, filled with boundless, nervous energy at the time they'd be spending together soon

**xXx**

_You know he's an extra needy, lil' glitch, right?_

Wedge onlined his optics slowly, Scorch's vocalizer ringing loudly in his helm as the words repeated in a cruel loop. A glance to his side showed that Hot Shot had not noticed the orange youngling's silence, too focused as he was on his own work. The front-loader smiled fondly despite his attempts to remain casual, sensing his spark lift an inch out of the gloom clinging onto it. It had been so abrupt, coming to the knowledge that he carried for Hot Shot feelings more than friendly, but acceptance had not nearly taken as long. Why should it have?

Hot Shot was gorgeous: with lithe limbs, charismatic smiles and bright, sincere optics of sapphire blue. He had a cleverness that came quickly, a humor that could make the entire room laugh, and a courage that led him to trying new experiences without hesitation. He stood by his friends, protecting them or supporting them as needed; imbued with an eagerness to learn and a passion for life that was enviable. Everything about the quadruple-changer -from his spark and processor, to his athletic talents and grace- set the red Autobot off as a treasure longing to be held. And did Wedge wish to embrace him.

"Primus... these are so simple...," Hot Shot groaned aloud, pulling the taller recruit from his thoughts. The red youngling turned his helm to his friend, expression embarrassed but amazed. "I can't believe I never figured these out on my own! It's just add one or two ingredients to the starting base and bam! You've got your concoctions. And you've had these memorized all this time, Wedge. That's really cool!"

The front-loader shifted in his chair a bit, grinning back as he shrugged indifferently. "Well, ya know, there were a lot of things I had to learn right away, particularly if I wanted to be a good construction 'bot worth his treads," he replied humbly. Only to himself though, would Wedge admit that it made his spark swell with pride when Hot Shot praised him. "It'd be pretty pitiful if I couldn't mix the standard solvents and adhesives."

The quadruple-changer gave his friend a teasing smile. "Is that so? And yet you complained that math equations were too hard; this is math too, you know?," he jested, poking the front-loader's kibble.

"Well, if you wanna play it like that...," Wedge said in mock insult, reaching across the desks and snatching Hot Shot's datapad.

The red youngling gasped in horror at the action, leaping forward to try and snatch his work back from the taller recruit. Wedge held it high out of reach on one side of his frame though, his free servo keeping the quadruple-changer unable to move closer by the firm grip on his shoulder plating. "Wedge!," Hot Shot whined.

_Constantly needing attention and praise..._

Wedge felt his lip components press together sharply as the words echoed unbidden in the back of his processor. For all the nasty things the pro-star had spouted, Scorch was completely wrong. He knew nothing about Hot Shot clearly. Sure, the red Autobot had his insecurities but if they choked him, it wasn't due to his own fault; rather, the 'bots in his life who dragged Hot Shot down with their misconceptions and cruel statements. Wedge had watched as his friend had overcome multiple obstacles alone, relying on his own skills and smarts to get the job done- without a cheer squad there to constantly pat his backstruts along the way. He was so strong all on his own. Though if Scorch wanted to think that Hot Shot was a simpering fool, hungry for validation all the time, then he could do so. It would garner him no favor with Hot Shot, leaving his dazzling spark free for the front-loader to admire its beauty unbothered.

"Wedge, that is-! Ooh, I'll show you!"

The threat took astroseconds to register in the orange youngling's processor, snapping him out of his muted argument with an imaginary Scorch; optics flaring in alarm as he saw Hot Shot pull away quickly, pedes planting on the edge of his desk and shooting himself up and over the other recruit's outstretched arm. "W-wait, Hot Sh-," Wedge shouted in alarm. The rest of his words were cut off with a yelp as the pair collided, knocking them to the floor in an undignified heap.

"Ah-ha!," Hot Shot crowed triumphantly, recovering first as he grabbed his datapad from off the floor, sitting up. He turned mischievous optics on the front-loader, sticking out his glossa for a quick moment. "You thought you could keep these formulas away from me, well tough! I'm just too smart and fast for the likes of you."

Wedge's engine turned over roughly, his cheekplates getting hotter and hotter the longer the quadruple-changer boasted, uncaring to the fact that he straddled the taller recruit's chestplates all the while. The front-loader on the other hand was painfully aware, every sensor on his sloping panels hyper-sensitized where white thighs were wrapped around them snugly, the red codpiece a tantalizing several inches down from his chin. Already a charge was building up inside him, servos shaking beside the red calves, unsure of whether or not to grab the warm plating.

"...hey, Wedge? I-i didn't hurt you, d-did I?" Hot Shot was looming in closer now, his lip components drawn down in worry as he noticed his friend wasn't responding back to their bantering. Heat gushed from Wedge's vents in a rush, slapping a weak smile onto his face, even as the red youngling hurriedly climbed off, dusting the construction recruit and yanking him back up onto his pedes, mumbling apologies the entire way.

"I'm okay, honestly. Just...," he answered, pausing as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse for his freezing. "Just banged my helm a little. Took me a moment to get the dizzying down. Thanks for checking up on me."

Now it was Hot Shot's turn to blush faintly; the gentle pink dusting so obvious on awkwardly grinning cheekplates, luminescent just under his sparkling optics. "Yeah, w-well, you're my best buddy! I gotta look out for you too," the quadruple-changer chuckled in response. "S-so, uh..."

A ping sounded loudly over the Academy P.A system before Heatwave's vocalizer echoed through the halls. "Hot Shot, please report to my office at once. Hot Shot, my office, please."

The recruits looked from the speaker in the classroom as it silenced itself with a spit of static to each other; Wedge shrugging casually in the quiet. "Guess Heatwave's got something for you to do today," he guessed.

The shorter Autobot sighed, putting his datapad into subspace. "Let's hope it's just not more chores. This building is getting awfully boring and we're still not allowed to use the ground bridge freely!," Hot Shot complained lightly.

Wedge joined Hot Shot as he headed for the classroom door, flicking an audial fin to pull the other youngling out of his mounting moodiness. Deep blue optics flashed to his friend in adorable surprise, the quadruple-changer gently jabbing an elbow at the front-loader's glass panes in amusement. "See you later in the lounge?," the red recruit asked.

"Definitely," the orange Autobot promised, keeping his grinning down to an acceptable limit. He waved back as Hot Shot bid goodbye, turning and heading on his own trek to the Academy shower rooms. Only when he was certain he wouldn't get caught, did Wedge cast another look over his tires, optics absorbing in the sight of the red youngling's nimble frame and hopeful smile as he went on his merry way.

Like he'd told himself earlier, the front-loader paused, grinning madly with affection, Hot Shot was precious. His smiles adorable, his optics spark-seizing, his frame warm and silky... Yeah, Wedge knew he had it bad for his friend, but he couldn't say anything. Not yet. Scorch and his toxic manipulation had been too recent of a past for the quadruple-changer; the last thing the orange youngling wanted was to have Hot Shot think his feelings false or suspicious. So, he'd wait and in the meantime, he'd quietly show the other recruit how much he cared for him in little ways, until Wedge was sure that the smaller Autobot even felt the same back.

For now though, the front-loader needed to have some private time to himself to work off the charge that had been building since his unexpected entangling with Hot Shot and his lust-inducing frame.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mission: Successful."

A round of cheers and excited hollers passed among the recruits as they hugged and high-fived in glee, the sim dissolving around them, returning them to the plainness of Hero Hall once more.

"Congratulations, recruits!," Blades called out proudly, greeting each face as it turned with a beaming smile of his own. "You've all done exceptionally well with today's multi-level fire extraction. Human cities can be very compact, filled with high-rise apartments and offices. Reacting quickly, precisely, while stabilizing deteriorating structures is essential when the humans we must rescue are trapped so deep inside these types of buildings. You split the work wonderfully, using each of your own special skill sets to their fullest! At the rate you are all excelling, graduation is close at hand."

Whirl squealed loudly, tapping her pedes in place with rapid ferocity. "Do you really think so?," she demanded, her tone still high-pitched. "Does that mean we're going to graduate soon? When?! Where! How much more is left to learn Professor Blades! Are we going to have one big, awesome, tank-churning, exciting, scary, spark-snuffing, fun, crippling, stunning rescue of gigantic proportions for the final exam!?"

"Well, now, graduation is not that close," the larger helicopter assuaged, his smile a tad flummoxed by the femme's uncontrollable energy. It was a look shared by her teammates in varying degrees. "And I couldn't share with you the details of the exam, even if I knew. But, enough of that recruits; you've had a long orn and a great sim rescue! Head on out for a clean-up and enjoy the rest of your free afternoon. Oh, but don't forget to finish your chores before curfew!"

Chattering amongst themselves again, the younglings began walking to the door, waving farewell to their teacher. Wedge and Hot Shot were sharing a fist bump, comparing their own triumphs during the lesson, when Blades' vocalizer called out one last time. "Hot Shot? Would you mind staying back for a few kliks?"

The newly made multi-changer paused, glancing at Wedge uncertainly, before turning towards the white mech. "Umm, sure?"

Even the triple-changer was confused by the request; alas, it wasn't him that was asked to remain behind. "Catch you out back for that race?," he quickly asked Hot Shot. The red youngling nodded eagerly, jogging back to Blades as Wedge left the room; the door to Hero Hall closing after the rest of the recruits.

"What's this about, professor?," Hot Shot inquired. "Did I do something wrong?"

Blades finished tapping away at the simulator's terminal, sending a soothing smile the recruit's way as he faced him fully. "No, no, definitely not. In fact, I wanted to talk briefly about how you're getting along," he said. "It's been some time since I've taught you all as a class, and I know you've all been split quite a bit as you receive specialized training this year. Yet, I must say, you and Wedge have bonded spectacularly despite the orns separated!"

The red youngling shuttered his optics, confused, clasping an arm behind his back. "Eh... Thanks? I guess," he mumbled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the helicopter continued quickly, waving a servo in the air, "I didn't mean to imply that your friendship with the others has faltered. I just remember how the two of you were in the first year..." Blades paused a moment to chuckle lightheartedly in remembrance. "You mechlings were full of such competitive drive, constantly trying to out-do the other in every situation and sim rescue!"

"W... was that bad?," Hot Shot asked. He hadn't been concerned when he stayed behind, but now he wasn't so sure there wasn't anything to be worried about. Blades sounded happy enough, maybe this was one of his gentler means of reprimanding though. "I mean, Wedge and I never really fought -at least not to the point of hurting anyone- and I-!"

His teacher smiled softly, folding his servos neatly in front of himself as the multi-changer trailed off in his sentence at the look. "No, I definitely know neither of you did that. I just wanted to express how happy I am for the both of you. You especially have grown so much since arriving at the Academy, Hot Shot," Blades praised. "You and Wedge have gone beyond your competitiveness and need to succeed; the two of you have learned to pass over leadership and command between yourselves so fluidly that you barely have to speak to get your intentions across now. Your synchronicity is a tremendous leap forward for the team and your friendship! Normally, it takes stellar cycles for any sort of unit to create that profound of a connection."

"You really appear to have finally found your place here," the older Autobot added, to the flustered recruit's further embarrassment.

"I-i... O-okay. Umm, d-did it take you and the others nearly a-as long to get past your... c-competitive... ness..., Professor Blades?," Hot Shot asked, trying to distract from his heating cheekplates.

The white mech laughed a bit. "Oh, no. We didn't have those sort of problems with our team," he answered. "Heatwave's leadership has always been uncontested, though input from the rest of the crew is important to address and discuss. We did have our own quirks that take awhile to adapt to, the same as everyone else. Learning how to play to your friends' strengths and weaknesses is crucial in being a true team. Keep that up, and you'll forever have Hoist, Medix, Whirl and Wedge by your side."

"Now," Blades announced, "I've kept you too long from your friends as it is. Run along and have a great race with Wedge!"

"Right. Eh, thanks for the talk, professor. I think," the red youngling replied, still a tad perplexed. But he shrugged it off, saying goodbye a second time to the helicopter before racing out of Hero Hall. He hadn't gone very far when he saw Wedge standing idly across the corridor, his expression drawn with silent worry. "Wedge?," he called out, jogging up to his friend's side, "What are you doing here?"

Pale optics flared in the other's presence, the triple-changer struggling to smile. "Hey. I was... um, busy with, uh, s-something else," he lied, lamely, "C-couldn't get out to the field right away. S-so, everything o-okay?"

Hot Shot smirked at the poor excuse, eyeing the orange youngling in amusement. "Ah. The ever-so-distracting hallway panels, yeah?" He laughed at Wedge's guilty expression. "It's fine. Thanks for waiting for me! Want to head for the track now?"

The taller Autobot nodded and so the pair began to walk for the elevator. "Alright, so you're not in trouble," Wedge started after a klik of silence, giving Hot Shot a puzzled look, "But then what did the professor want?"

The multi-changer made a face, still perplexed himself from the conversation several kliks ago. "You know, I'm not really sure... Blades was just saying that we'd gotten super close and that he was happy for us," Hot Shot explained. "Something about how it made the rescue more fluid with us being synced? I don't really understand, do you?"

Wedge's expression was the same as his companion's, but it faltered momentarily when the red youngling looked at him; the other recruit averting his attention in a hurry. "T...that is odd," he commented, resetting his vocalizer fast, "D-does it affect our performance that much? I m-mean, we're not _that close_ or anything."

This time, it was Hot Shot who got flustered. He dropped his gaze to the other side, cheekplates darkening with a second blush that orn. "I-i guess...," the multi-changer murmured. He didn't comment that there had been a rising trend over the last couple of months, the pair spending more time hanging out, playing games and even studying, usually when their other friends were out of the Academy. When Hoist, Whirl and Medix were around, Wedge opted to sending funny images and videos to Hot Shot's tablet periodically; the red youngling leaving rust sticks or his favourite comics in the triple-changer's locker in return. Occasionally, they'd slip off from everyone else to get a cycle or two alone and talk.

It was so nice having that sort of devoted attention from his friend... Would that make them close-close though? Or was the friendship between them still pretty shallow? Hot Shot could never easily give up what he had with Wedge now, but the prospect of having another level that their camaraderie could ascend to made his spark rotate in dizzying, exciting pulses. "C'mon, I'm still burning from the awesome mission and you said we would race," the smaller Autobot spoke up quickly, bounding forward a few steps, spinning to meet his companion head on, "Don't tell me your backing out of your challenge now!"

Wedge paused, his lip components pulling into a cocky grin that did strange things to Hot Shot's neural net with its appearance. "You only wish I would. Race you to the race!," he shouted suddenly, breaking out into a sprint and flying past his startled companion.

"Wha- Wedge, you get back here, you giant cheater!," the multi-changer squawked indignantly, chasing after the orange youngling. Their laughter rang out loudly in the hallway a few moments later as they rushed to the Academy exit.

**xXx**

Pedesteps clicked softly as he inched across the corridor, peeking momentarily into every doorway as he passed. It was dark, the Academy lighting set to night mode to conserve energy, the only illumination coming from a pot light every twelve feet or so. If that was disorientating for some, a quick glance at their chronometer would inform them that it was very late in Earth's nightly cycle. Barely a quarter way through one a.m. Everyone was supposed to be in recharge -from drones to professors, and especially recruits. Inching his way through the hall, Wedge knew he'd be in deep trouble if he was caught out of his room at this hour, but argued that he needed the time alone all that more. He paused as he neared Hoist's room, peeking inside slowly.

His fellow recruit was laying in a giant pile of blankets that he'd removed from his recharge slab and had bundled up on the floor instead, rolled onto his back in dino-form. Wedge couldn't help the optic ridge that lifted at the odd sight. The make-shift nest and recharging in beast-mode must have been some of Hoist's quirks following his recent transformation scan. The orange youngling didn't have time to ponder on the oddities of dinobots though; he had a mission to accomplish. Continuing his sneaking, Wedge made it past Medix's open door next -not surprised with the spartan interior- finding himself standing outside of the last room in the corridor: Hot Shot's. Intakes cycling slowly, Wedge withdrew the handwritten letter out of subspace, trying not to crease it with his trembling fingers.

Primus, he'd struggled for so long on this... Was it the right choice still? Would it be cowardly to tell Hot Shot like this instead of face-to-face? The triple-changer grit his denta in frustration, just barely smothering any grunts that might have escaped him. He'd gone through this a hundred times with himself already; he'd practiced confessing in person, writing a song, planned a gift... Yet none of them felt right. Perhaps it was just the fear of being rejected to his face that made him hesitate, but ultimately, it was easier for Wedge to find the words to say when ink touched paper. Not that he hadn't gone through several drafts still before compiling his feelings together perfectly. He'd have to thank Wes later for getting him the pad of paper and markers. Smoothing the letter nervously, the orange youngling leaned forward, peering into the dimly-lit room.

Hot Shot's room was... well, as messy as Academy protocol would allow. He had comics and a few magazines stacked in a haphazard pile on his desk, threatening to teeter over at any moment, fighting for space among his few favourite trophies. Posters and other image clippings covered the walls sporadically, a couple looking as if they'd fall down at any moment, while a single shelf held the remainder of the multi-changer's personal items: a framed picture of their graduation, an inactive Cube, some boxes of rust sticks, a handheld game console and the datapad Wedge had given him months ago. Wedge almost smiled at that sight alone, but the image that really pulled his lip components up was the one of Hot Shot deep in recharge on his berth; servos cushioning his helm as he slept abdomen down, a pede hanging off the slab freely, the other one entangled with the fuzzy blanket Cody's sister had all gifted them with. On his face, a little smile tugged incessantly at one corner of his lip components, amplifying the adorableness.

So badly the taller Autobot wanted to hasten inside and scoop his unsuspecting friend up into a kiss. Wedge fought the urge down, feeling physically injured by the mental battle. It was because of this struggle that he needed to tell Hot Shot off how he felt before he lost control of his emotions next time they were together. He didn't need to be pressing the red youngling up against his own frame if his affection wasn't returned. But had he waited long enough for Hot Shot to care about him back?

Wedge shook his helm hard, looking at his letter once more as he cycled a hard intake. It was now or never, he thought. Ever so careful, the orange youngling tip-toed inside the room, pausing every few inches to gauge whether or not it was safe to continue. The Academy remained silent and his fellow recruits did not budge from recharge, so Wedge carried on; coming up to the desk several kliks later, carefully sliding the folded paper between the stack of comics and a Cube trophy. Sparing one final, longing look at Hot Shot, the triple-changer snuck back out of the room, heading quickly and quietly back to his own quarters. It took nearly five force-shut down commands before he finally returned to recharge.

**xXx**

Emergency alarms roused the recruits from recharge with a start a couple cycles later, throwing themselves out of their berths and running to the command center; tripping over themselves a little and taking corners a bit too quick, until they were skidding to a stop before Heatwave.

"Recruits," he started sharply, sounding a lot more alert and awake than they felt, "We've had a distress ping from Earth's neighbour, the planet Mars. It's a downed Cybertronian ship."

"W-wait, what?," Hoist piped up first, stunned by the announcement. "A-are you serious?!"

Heatwave gave the green youngling a stern look, shutting down any further comments from the recruits. "It's currently out of trajectory of most Earth planetary exploration technology, but if we don't act soon the ping will no doubt trigger the humans' own receivers. We need to board the Sigma at once, repair the damages if we can or tow the ship back to the Academy if we can not. Let's move, recruits!"

The firetruck marched out of the command center first, his pacing fast and hard, causing the others to run to catch up.

"Another Cybertronian ship!," Hoist vented rapidly in excitement, glancing at Whirl. "I can't believe it!"

"Maybe this time it will have passengers," the femme agreed, her optics bright. "Imagine actually getting to rescue a fellow 'bot!"

"We definitely haven't had many chances to test our skills on our own kin," Medix interjected. He too was grinning with anticipation. "This shall be a very enriching experience."

Hot Shot pulled up beside Wedge, almost bumping the orange youngling as he ran. "This is super cool! Are you excited, Wedge?," the multi-changer asked. Wedge could barely look back at his friend, cringing at his sparkling optics that met his quick glance.

"Y-yeah," he forced out eventually as they reached their destination, thankful for the distraction of the hangar to draw Hot Shot's attention off of himself for a few kliks. He watched as the other recruits rushed to gather Heatwave's shouted out list of supplies, spark dimming in its housing as he clutched an arm anxiously. He couldn't quite put it into words, but there was something about the upcoming mission that made Wedge feel uneasy to his core.

Why would there even be a Cybertronian ship on Mars?

"Wedge!," Heatwave ordered impatiently, "Time to board."

"Yes, sir!," the triple-changer answered immediately, jogging up Sigma's gang plank as the Academy walls shifted aside to grant the ship access to the sky.

**C.M.D: That's it for now. Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	4. Chapter 4

They touched down on Mars' dark side an orn after take-off from Earth. Red dust billowed up into the air, rushing into the ship's bottom as the hatch opened. Waving away at the grit, the recruits peered out into the settling blackness, optics converting to dim mode and headlights flashing on to break the gloom.

Whirl was the first to unfold her polyvisor, scanning the exterior terrain. "There's a rapidly cooling heat trail in that direction, Professor," she stated, pointing with a finger to the left. "The ground's pretty broken up, but there's no sign of the ship in the immediate vicinity outside of its debris."

"Thank you, Whirl," Heatwave said. He turned to the rest of the younglings, a serious scowl on his face. "You heard your comrade: the ship is not registering yet on our radar so we'll have a trek ahead of us. Transform and roll out, recruits, and be wary of any fallen scrap. We don't need to carry you back to the Academy on a stretcher."

Transforming without another word, the firetruck raced down the gangplank and onto the planet's brittle surface, heavy-duty tires churning up the soft ground as he raced off in the direction of the crash sight. At once, the recruits transformed to vehicle-mode, hurrying to follow their instructor.

"Gah!," Medix yelped, finding the silt-like ground a little too fine to gain traction. The harder he tried to drive up out of his self-made ditch, the deeper it got, pulling him further in. "T-this is impossible! I have nothing solid to grip against!"

"Neither do I," Wedge growled, frustrated that his new set of tires were failing him.

"Guess we've got to try our secondary mode," Whirl suggested, huffing as she finally gave up getting her own tires over Mars' shifting soil. She transformed back to 'bot mode long enough to jump into the air and switch to helicopter form. Medix quickly did the same, speeding off with the femme and Hoist as they raced off to catch up with Heatwave.

Hot Shot still hung back, headlights focused on Wedge. "C'mon buddy! Switch back to your construction vehicle and let's get going," he urged cheerfully.

Wedge attempted to drive forward again in his sport car form, tires whining as they tossed loose dirt all over his trunk and hood, swiveling in place but still not budging from the sinking soil. "Slaggit!," the triple-changer cursed, returning to bipedal mode. He glanced at Hot Shot momentarily, facing the ship, clenching his fists angrily.

"I just can't get any grip, Hot Shot. Why would I think my other tires can make it? And I don't have an aerial or beast form to fall back on...," he bit out, upset.

"Wedge...," the multi-changer said quietly. He rolled forward on his ATV tires, bumping the orange youngling with his grill gently. "Your construction vehicle has heavy set tires with large grooves, right? Just like mine and H.W's. Of course you'll be able to roll out along with us. But if we don't get going now, everybody will beat us to the ship!"

The triple-changer paused, looking down at his friend, uncertain.

"Bet you can't beat me as a front-loader," Hot Shot challenged, headlights blinking mischievously. Wedge smiled at that, finally transforming and testing his control over the loose ground. He managed to keep level with out any problems and with a honk of joy, he took off across Mars' surface, the ATV racing nose-to-nose with the front-loader as they hurried to catch up to the others.

Hoist, Whirl and Medix were just closing on the down ship -half buried into the planet's red body- when the two remaining recruits drew up to their teammates. "Wow, that's extremely fascinating, Medix," Whirl vocalizer echoed down from above them. "I never would have-"

"Oh, thank Primus you got here," Hoist said, turning his snout to face the two ground vehicles. "Medix has been regaling Whirl with all sorts of scientific facts about Mars. I thought my audios were gonna short-circuit if he continued to lecture us on the mathematical breakdown of all of its chemical make-up..."

"Sounds like Medix, alright," Wedge commented humorously.

"Yeah, he's-"

"Look, Heatwave's already managed to cut an opening into the ship!," Hot Shot yelled, cutting the dinobot off. The recruits returned to bipedal mode at once, jogging the last several feet to join their instructor as he laid the cut ship panels to the side.

"Be careful," Heatwave reminded the younglings, giving them a sideways glance. "The interior is partially torn up and there is still power radiating from inside. Preliminary scans seems as though half the ship has already been crushed where it collided with the planet's surface. Whirl, Wedge: you will scan those areas, ensure that there are no energy signs under the debris. Hot Shot, Hoist and Medix; make your way to the cockpit and check for survivors. I'll find the ship's engine core and power it down manually."

"Yes, sir!," four vocalizers chirped.

Heatwave climbed into the spacecraft first, heading towards the turbines at the aft. Whirl and Wedge headed in next, heading left to explore the crushed parts of the ship. Which only left the center corridor. Hoist, Hot Shot and Medix clambered inside, walking cautiously through the empty hallway, optics trying to piece together their surroundings in pitch darkness. Pieces of panels lay scattered along the floor, mixed up among other bits of broken tech, as they walked; snapped wires and long, ropes of cabling dangling out of the gaping ceiling and through cracks in the floor.

"This ship really took a beating, huh?," Hot Shot commented. He spoke quietly but even then, his words echoed loudly in the darkness like a shout.

"H-Hot Shot, k-keep it down!," the green youngling hissed, jumping in fright at the sound. Medix frowned at the both of them, putting his finger to his lip components in muted command.

"It's not very big," the multi-changer continued, ignoring the medic's wishes. Medix only huffed in silent ire, optical sensors rolling at the predictable response. "Maybe about Sigma's size. So it's made for a small crew, four-to-five passengers, right? How come we haven't found anyone yet."

Hoist shook. "W-we don't know that o-one of the others h-haven't," he pointed out.

Hot Shot gave his teammate a queer look at the interjection. "If they had, someone would have commed it in. They would need Medix's expertise to help any injured, bar minimum, it's rescue protocol to report in any findings."

"Alright, stop upsetting Hoist," Medix grunted, pushing his way past the two other Autobots. "We're at the cockpit."

The trio slowed to a stop before a closed door, optics looking it over under the light of their headlights. It was scuffed, but seemed to have no serious damage or dents. The white mech took lead, placing his servo over the scanner set into the wall adjacent of the doorway. It honked in rejection, startling the recruits.

"What?," Hoist stated, confused. "A-aren't all ships synced to a Cybertronian energy signal? Why won't it open?"

"Yes, it is an oddity...," Medix hummed in displeasure. His fingers picked at the bottom of the scanner, yanking down a thinner panel of metal, this one covered in buttons. Smiling, the medic tapped away at the glyph keys. "Thankfully, all Cybetronian tech comes with medic override codes for emergencies such as this one."

The scanner beeped happily at Medix's touch, the cockpit door sliding up and out of the way for the recruits. Heading inside, they were alarmed to find that it too was devoid of any 'bots. Medix moved for the controls at once, his fingers flying across the terminal as he worked, leaving Hot Shot and Hoist to explore the remainder of the command deck by themselves.

"I-i don't understand... A s-ship needs a pilot!," Hoist stuttered, his plating clacking in fear, "S-so where is everyone?"

The red youngling was crawling under a terminal, pulling random items out of the crevices from where they'd fallen in the crash. "I don't know... But there's nothing useful under here either," he mumbled in disappointment.

"There's no data on the ship's docket," Medix piped up, scandalized. "There's not even a flight path input! How am I supposed to know who or how many 'bots were on this ship, let alone where they were going, if there's no data to extract."

"Really?," Hot Shot asked, pulling himself up on his pedes. "That's weird."

Hoist squeaked, rifling through dirt and datapads on another terminal desperately. "T-there's got to be something here! S-ships can't be flown by g-ghosts, after all!," he yelped.

Hot Shot piqued at the statement, feeling a cold chill run down his spinal struts. "G-ghosts?," he asked, vocalizer resetting in mounting trepidation. Medix planted his face into his servo, grumbling wordlessly at his bad luck being stuck with these two.

"Recruits, return to the Sigma at once," came Heatwave's vocalizer over the commlink.

"But, professor," Whirl chimed in, "Wedge and I have been unable to find anyone in our sector."

"Yes," Medix added, finger to his audio as he spoke, "And there's no crew register or keyed in destination in the databanks."

The terminals went completely black as power was removed from the ship finally. "I said return to the Sigma," the older mech repeated icily over the comms. "Do not question me, recruits. We're done here; we'll leave the rest to Bumblebee."

The trio shared a look amongst themselves, Medix and Hoist tidying up their areas respectively while Hot Shot bounded back to the open door anxiously. "C'mon, c'mon!," he urged, optics looking about frantically for any spectres in the outside corridor.

"We're coming, Hot Shot," the medic frowned unhappily. He looked towards Hoist, the green mech staring at something curiously in his servos. "Hoist, let's go already. Professor Heatwave will punish us if we're late."

"U-uh, oh, yeah!," the green youngling replied distractedly, slipping the unknown item into his subspace and joining his teammates as they made their way out of the ship in a quickened pace.

**xXx**

The recruits sat in the student lounge several stellar cycles later, attempting to occupy themselves halfheartedly but finding their attention constantly drifting to the doorway every few astroseconds. Hot Shot was bouncing a leg, the motion growing quicker and louder the more his impatience grew, fingers mashing at his handheld game mindlessly. Whirl looked up from the book she was attempting to read -it was upside down, though that could have just been one of the femme's many quirks- squeaking when the small device was thrown across the room.

"Hot Shot!," she cried out, indignant.

"What?," the red youngling shouted, jumping off the crate he had been sitting on. "It's been stellar cycles... H.W wouldn't say a slagging thing back on Mars, and, other than telling us to squat in here for who knows how long, he didn't say a slagging thing coming back either. Don't you want to know what the frag is going on?"

"Yeah, but getting mad isn't helping," Hoist mumbled out from deeper in the lounge. He was sitting on one of the tire chairs, hunkered over something in his servos, barely paying attention to the rest of his teammates.

Wedge, leaning against the wall by the doorway, watched from half-shuttered optics as Hot Shot scoffed at the green youngling's reply, starting up a restless pacing instead. There were a hundred different theories buzzing around the triple-changer's helm as to what might be going on, but it was the most likely few that made Wedge hesitate to speak up. Everything about the ship had been setting off internal alarm bells, and then there was Heatwave's guarded rush to get them to leave... _'Primus'_ , he thought, _'Please don't let it be that...'_

"Why are we being shepherded here and not being allowed out of the lounge? That doesn't sound super weird to you all?," Hot Shot demanded, looking at each of his friends. He stopped at Wedge last, his expression annoyed and desperate for agreement. "Wedge, don't you-"

Tinny pedes echoed down the hall suddenly, the recruits snapping their helms to the door at once. Relief passed around the room at the sight of Medix hurrying inside, but only marginally. "Heatwave is in his office," he announced, glancing momentarily behind himself, "But it's not just Bumblebee he's called in. Perceptor, Ratchet and Chase have been summoned as well. I overheard that he sent out a hail for Boulder and Blades and Optimus Prime, but they have yet to arrive or comm."

"See," the red youngling crowed, "Why the secrecry? Why the huge meeting? I'm telling you, something's up!"

Whirl set her book down, climbing out of the couch pit. "I'd hate to agree with you without more evidence but right now the presented data shows that our professors are acting outside of the norm. What are we going to do?," she asked.

"I-"

Hoist's scream cut off any further discussion that might have taken place, the recruits whirling in his direction to see a black shape hurtling out from between the arcade terminals. Only when it refused to fall, sweeping up instead for the high ceiling, did they realize that it was alive.

"I-it's a bird!," Whirl gasped.

"No, it's a minibot," Medix corrected, turning and slamming a servo on the doorway keypad. The minibot tried to make a dive for the door, but its momentary glance around the lounge had robbed it off a few precious astroseconds. Veering wildly to the side, it took another glide around the room, climbing back up into the air.

"We gotta keep it in the room!," Hot Shot said, dashing across the lounge and shutting the other set of doors. The bird-like creature drew up angrily, hissing from its metallic beak at its entrapment. With its wings held open wide, the purple markings on its underside were suddenly visible for all to see. Wedge felt his spark drop to his pedes, right as the words left the multi-changer's mouth. "It's a _Decepticon_!"

"Decepticon?," Whirl questioned, baffled. "What is that?!"

"No time to explain now, Whirl. We must catch him," Medix interjected, drawing out his magnetic power projector. "The professors must- Gaah!"

"Medix!" Whirl ran across the room as the medic fell, the Decepticon flying away from the downed recruit, the projector clutched in its sharp talons. The femme barely managed to avoid getting hurt in the minibot's next dive, her arm-mounted rotors popping out in a panic and spinning rapidly to life. Screeching, the avian changed direction, almost getting slapped down by Hot Shot's servos as he took a leap for the smaller 'bot.

"Fragger!," the red youngling cursed, getting back up on his pedes quickly.

"Medix is badly injured," Whirl cried out, helping her friend slowly sit up. Medix was barely conscious still, gripping his mangled arm, energon seeping from the deep gouges and circuits sparking near the mouth of the torn up plating. "I-i don't understand- Why is it attacking us?"

Hot Shot missed the minibot again as he jumped off the crates, his quick reflexes allowing him to roll safely out of the way of its counter-strike. "Because it's a _Decepticon_ , Whirl," he growled, optics tracking the avian's movements continuously, "Decepticons are the worst of the worst. They're scum! All they do is kill, and steal, and destroy. Decepticons mean no good to anyone because they _can't_ be good. They're all rotten to the core! They should have all been terminated back during the war!"

The words pierced Wedge's spark, finding himself frozen even as his gaze drifted to the multi-changer in agony.

"But, where did it come from?," Whirl shouted back, dragging Medix into a corner, her optics fixed skyward. The Decepticon had started whipping around the lounge at incredible speeds, slicing objects as it passed with its razor-sharp wings and ripping others from their frames to chuck at the frazzled younglings.

"I...i-it came from the s-ship," Hoist choked out, stumbling into the open. He too had dragging gouges across his frame, starting at his collar struts and sweeping up the left side of his face. His servos bore similar slices. "I picked it up, it was tiny, li-like a cassette and b-brought it back when... I-i didn't mean for this to h-happen!"

Hot Shot tackled the green youngling, saving him from an arcade terminal as it was thrown through the sky, the minibot screeching in displeasure. "It's not your fault, Hoist," he said, jumping to his pedes and pulling the triple-changer along with him. "Decepticons can only lie and trick."

"...W-well, I can't be tricked now," Hoist scowled, unwinding a line of tow rope. "Take this, Hot Shot. I'm about to show this lil' bird that you don't mess with a dinobot!" He transformed at once, standing taller as he reared up his pointed snout and roared.

The Decepticon wavered in the air, its next dive disrupted by the thundering frequency, pulling back cautiously. "Yeah," Hot Shot cheered, "That's how you do it, Hoist! Let's get this little slagger!"

The pair began a mad counter-assault on the minibot, leaping and rolling away from the various salvo as the avian swept around the room, its strikes coming faster and more unpredictable. Wedge could only watch, finding enough strength in himself to slowly inch through the room, moving closer and closer to the door on the opposite side. A part of him knew he should help -he didn't want his friends hurt!- but another part, a larger one, left him quaking in terror. That just wasn't any Decepticon, that was _Lazerbeak_. Ruthless, cunning, vengeful... and the one 'bot who could expose the triple-changer's past. Wedge couldn't let that happen; he had to get out before he was spotted!

Closing in on the other door, the orange youngling turned to undo the emergency lock on the keypad, hearing Hoist bellow in pain. He snapped his helm back at once, watching as the dinobot fell, his legs spilling fresh energon where Lazerbeak's beak had bitten a chunk off of him. Hot Shot, who amazingly had the Decepticon caught tightly in Hoist's tow rope, was trying to pull the avian towards him quickly, no doubt with the intent to ground him and immobilize him completely in the remaining cord. Lazerbeak knew of this plan too and he waited until the red youngling had reeled him close enough so he was a few feet away, before firing his little thrusters and breaking the rope to pieces.

Hot Shot jumped nimbly out of the way of the first attack, his Cube skills allowing him to bound to the top of a crate and flip off one of the lounge's pillars as the minibot corkscrewed and struck again. He was unaware though that Lazerbeak had already adjusted his flight path, turning to dive again while the small Autobot was in free-fall, talons forward.

"Hot Shot!"

Hot Shot yelped as he was knocked aside, hearing metal clang and tear as he rolled across the floor, pushing himself up in time to see Wedge tackled to the floor by the Decepticon. "Wedge!," he called out, alarmed.

Pinned by one talon on his arm, the other piercing his collar struts, Wedge could only look up at the minibot, spark whirling sickly as the thin, red optics peered down on him angrily. "You...," Lazerbeak hissed, and the sound of his vocalizer jolted the triple-changer, who regretted his reaction as his neural net burned with fresh pain, "You look familiar..."

The avian snapped its helm down, twisting the orange youngling's arm around, ignorant of his captive's agonized whimper. "Yes... Trying to hide it, but the remnants are there. What are you doing here, young spark, and why do you not help your fellow Decepticon?" Lazerbeak's optics reconnected with Wedge's own, fury burning in his gaze.

Wedge tried not to sob as the minibot dug his talons deeper, his vocalizer warbling as they sliced ever closer to its position. "I-i-"

"Traitor!," Lazerebeak snarled, rearing his helm back. The edge of his beak caught the light, and the orange youngling knew it would find itself buried in his helm in astroseconds, ripping out his brain module as it had done to others before him. It came as a shock when the avian was ripped away from Wedge, thudding to the side heavily, imprisoned tightly in an electro-net.

"Wedge!," Bumblebee called out. The triple-changer heard his mentor's pedes close in, long before he finally saw the ex-scout; the yellow mech smiling sadly down on his protege. "It's okay, buddy... You don't need to move. Ratchet will get you carried to medbay and fixed up. You're safe now."

"H-h...?," Wedge attempted to speak. His vocalizer gave up quickly, the damage to his frame too extensive at the moment. Optics drifted to the side, searching... but Hot Shot had already been herded out of the room along with Medix and Whirl by Chase and Blades, leaving Ratchet and the furious Heatwave to take care of Hoist and assess damages.

"It's okay, it's okay," came Bumblebee's soothing vocalizer again. He laid a warm servo on the recruit's forehelm. "Don't fight it, Wedge. Power down."

And he did. He was too tired and hurting for much else.

**C.M.D: Don't know how RBA wants to continue the 2nd season but I'm having fun creating my own paths in the meantime... and I really should finish RID 2015 'cause I don't know what's canon or not, still, I'm going to work Lazerbeak in how I wish. Hope you enjoyed and see you all next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

"It just doesn't seem -ow!- feasible that -ouch! Professor, that stings," Medix snapped, trying to jerk his arm away. Perceptor kept a strong servo on his arm though, staring silently at his patient.

Chagrined slightly, the white youngling allowed the scientist to lay his arm back down on the exam table, the red mech returning the soldering tool to the open wound. "I understand it is uncomfortable, recruit, but you must remain immobile or I shall have to put you in temporary stasis," Perceptor spoke flatly. "Lazerbeak tore many receptors when he removed your magnetic power projector. The stasis pods assist in expediting repair nanites within us; unfortunately, it can not manage a task as delicate as this. If you wish to reclaim your specialized tool, you must allow me to repair the circuits."

The other recruits sat around the medbay in subdued silence, periodically glancing at each other. It was Whirl who spoke first, rotors shuffling shyly. "P... Professor? Why... What are the Decepticons?"

Perceptor was too engrossed in his work, optic lens clicking as he changed its magnification a few times. Medix, doing his best to remain still otherwise, tilted his helm to his teammate. "The Decepticons were once a secondary subset of Cybertronian, offset by their counterparts, the Autobots. It is said that they were at war for millenia but Decepticons are supposed to be extinct," he supplied.

Hot Shot snorted derisively at that, turning away when optics glanced at him.

"But, that minibot...," Whirl questioned, confused. "H-he was a Decepticon? And what was with those markings?"

Perceptor set down his tools, placing a temporary patch over Medix's exposed circuits. "Your data is only partially correct, Medix," he said. He paused, looking over the recruits before venting softly -a reaction that they'd never heard from their professor before, and he had to run a class with Hot Shot in it. "As most things do, when civil war erupted on Cybertron millenia ago, the inhabitants were divided. There were the Autobots, the neutrals... and the Decepticons. There had been a growing corruption in our society that propelled us into future chaos. Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, wished to reform Cybertron using peaceful means. Megatron, once his friend, wanted a different outcome for the planet... and thus, he became the leader of the Decepticons."

"The fighting began, and both sides lost daily. Eventually, the Autobots started losing more," the scientist continued, cleaning up his work space as he did, "Megatron condoned heinous acts, encouraged them really, in the name of winning the ultimate war. Eventually, he was stopped, by our good friend, Bumblebee. Megatron returned though, changed, so the story goes, and disappeared into the cosmos. His surrender meant that Cybertron could be remade again, ravaged as it had been because of the war, and those that survived slowly flocked back home to partake in its rebuilding. Many gave up weapons and badges -the odd markings you noticed on Lazerbeak- all for a new future. Some... did not. Remaining Decepticons refused to accept their loss, believing that Megatron would return and they would take the planet by force."

"Yeah, so they tried to kill Optimus Prime and Bumblebee!," Hot Shot cut in angrily, catching the surprise of his fellow recruits. "I heard all about it in the Cube fields. A bunch of Decepticons ran the High Council and called a bunch more of their cronies to offline Prime for good. They were taken down -thank Primus!- or we wouldn't be here now."

"Did that really happen?," Hoist asked, looking towards the older Autobot.

Perceptor nodded. "Yes. You would have been mostly sparklings at the time. I am amazed that any news of this reached you," he remarked.

"S-so, um, Lazerbeak? He...," Whirl started carefully, rubbing her forehelm at the swell of information, "He is a Decepticon who still wants to fight?"

Wedge felt his servo creeping up to his collar struts unconsciously, the welding still tender and sore.

Perceptor waved Medix off the bench, beginning its sterilization wipe-down as he talked. "Perhaps. He was taken into custody along with his master some time ago. Soundwave was tried on all accounts and found guilty. He is expected to be in the stockades for a long time," he answered. "Ratchet's new Minibot Protection and Equality act ensured that those like Lazerbeak would not be tried for his master's crimes. He was pardoned and granted a clean slate, though he is on heavy probation. One being that he is not allowed to leave Cybertron or its moons without authorization."

"Guess he didn't take that to spark if he ended up on Mars," Hot Shot grumbled nastily.

"Wait, my uncle Ratchet implemented that bill?!," Medix wondered aloud.

The scientist quirked an optic ridge at the white youngling, putting away the last of his things. "Yes. He sat on the High council for a short time following its Decepticon usurpation. It was a position that he deemed did not suit him and thus stepped down to allow more suitable candidates take his place. Before that, he undid much of what the false-council had put in place and made changes for the better of Cybertron as a whole."

"And some Decepticons were just happy to stop fighting? Did they not care for their side?," Hoist asked, curious.

"For questions such as that, I suggest you talk to those closest to you," Perceptor replied. "Wedge is one such reformed case."

Wide optics fixed on Wedge immediately, making the orange youngling shrink into his shoulder tires anxiously. There was shock, confusion, anger... but nothing was as devastating as the look of betrayal shining brightly in Hot Shot's bright orbs. "I wasn't- I-i mean, I was, b-but," he stuttered, trailing off.

"Please return to your quarters, recruits," Perceptor ordered, heading for the exit himself. "I must convene with the other professors. There is much to discuss."

He didn't wait to see if the younglings would follow, leaving the medbay and heading back to Heatwave's office. In his absence, silence hung for a klik, four recruits shifting uncertainly in place, their optics moving around aimlessly.

"Wedge, why didn't you tell us?," Medix asked, his tone baffled with a touch of sternness.

"I thought you said you worked in Cybertron's development sector," Hoist added, his lip components tugging down in a slight frown.

"I did!," Wedge confirmed sharply, unable to lift his gaze from where it was drilling a hole into the floor. "I-i... I was assigned there during Cybertron's rebuilding. I... I was only protoformed as a Decepticon near the end of the war. Optimus found me... took me from my unit... back to Cybertron..."

"Why didn't you tell us about your past?," Whirl questioned, hurt by the sudden revelation.

The orange youngling felt his shoulders sink between his shoulder tires, anger blooming in his tanks as he was cornered by his distrustful comrades. "Because it's not important!," he snapped, fists curling open and close at his sides. "I didn't choose to be branded a Decepticon; I never wanted any of that nightmare! I was _born a soldier_ -disposable as Megatron saw fit, along with the others in my unit."

"I didn't want you to think of me as... as... _that_ ," Wedge continued, shuttering his optics tightly. "I'm not a killer; I'm a Rescue 'Bot! This is all I want to be!"

A beat of silence followed his statement, then a second, a third... Just as the construction recruit thought miserably to leave, movement echoed across from him. He onlined his optics, painfully hopeful, his spark halting for a fraction of an astrosecond when he saw that it was Whirl walking toward him now.

"You are a very good Rescue 'Bot," she reaffirmed, touching his forearm gently.

Medix and Hoist approached as well, stopping a few inches behind the femme. "Agreed," Medix responded, "The collective data thus far would dictate that you are not alike the Decepticons in the history texts. There is no reason to find you dishonest in your motives."

"You shouldn't be afraid to tell us about you or your past," the green youngling said, smiling. "We didn't know the Wedge of before, we know you now. And we all like you a lot, Wedge."

The orange triple-changer felt relief slowly spread through his lines, but his spark couldn't lift from the fear pulling it downwards still, lifting his chin and staring across the room at the red recruit who had yet to move. "...yeah, what they said," Hot Shot mumbled, turning away, arms crossed. "Listen, the professors said we needed to get to our rooms and stay there. I think we should do it before anything else happens tonight."

Wedge flinched at the obvious deflection, optics heating with rising coolant. His teammates spared a couple concerned and uncertain glances between them, conceding to the point that Hot Shot had reminded them of. Quietly, they all filed out of the medbay, heading back downstairs and to their quarters, one by one.

**xXx**

Classes resumed immediately the next orn. Mentoring sessions were placed on hold, they were told, but that didn't mean they could slack off entirely. The younglings were all aware that this was merely a way to distract them from the situation with Lazerbeak. He was still being kept in Heatwave's office, which was now locked so people couldn't drop by unexpected, while the firetruck continued his attempts to comm Optimus Prime. Bumblebee had assured the recruits that there was nothing to fear from Lazerbeak -he was restrained in an electric cage and even then, he was mostly well-behaved unless he was awoken by strangers- but the ex-scout had work to do with the hijacked ship crashed on Mars and could not linger long.

Sims were also postponed for a few orns to allow the younglings a chance to recover more fully from their wounds. Hoist joked that it was thanks to his dino-thick plating that he wasn't so easy to take down now, but he still was careful about where he positioned his weight when he walked. Medix wasn't nearly as jovial, yet he got his magnetic power projector the orn after the attack and he was able to discuss the situation with an unbiased opinion when asked. Whirl, ever full of passion, bounced back quickest, trying to max her friends' orn out with whatever games and shows she could get her servos on. Her attempts to just have them hang and enjoy their free time together helped them each recover quicker.

That is, all of them except Hot Shot...

Wedge walked down the Academy hall, drawing up to the doorway leading into the action matrix with quiet pedes. He slyly took a peek inside, his spark sinking low as he found it empty. Of course, he bemoaned. The triple-changer had tracked Hot Shot down to the field the other orn, playing Cube, but when he had asked if he could join the red youngling, the shorter Autobot had said he was done and left. He hadn't come back since and Wedge had looked just about every where he could think of to find the other recruit.

Hot Shot clearly wanted nothing to do with him anymore, despite the facade he put on around their fellow teammates and instructors. The orange youngling turned and headed back to his quarters, deciding that he would just power down into an early recharge. Not even Medix's and Whirl's eager calls for him to join their game of chess could instill any happiness into his own spark. Waving them off politely, Wedge walked past the student lounge, optics fixed straight ahead as he wandered blindly towards his room. He stopped, inches from his own door, noticing that Hot Shot's door was open. Intake stalling, the triple-changer debated on what to do, before heading for his comrade's room. The same emptiness greeted Wedge as before, coolant coating his optics at once. He knew it was stupid, but he stepped inside all the same, looking around. Nothing about the room had changed except where the blanket that the multi-changer slept with had been tossed that orn.

What about...?

Wedge hurried across the room, nearly crumpling with defeat. The letter he'd wrote still sat on Hot Shot's desk, untouched. Was there even any point in the red youngling knowing his feelings now? Hot Shot hated him, and even switching sides could not erase the fact that Wedge had once been a Decepticon, something that the shorter Autobot found unforgivable. No, the orange recruit reasoned to himself miserably, grabbing the note, better he not give the multi-changer more to fuel his anger with. He was just slipping it into his cab when he heard the pedes stop several feet away from him; engine choking at the quick vent.

The triple-changer slowly turned about, taking in the sight of the frozen Hot Shot; a relative calm before the storm. "W... what are you doing in my room?!," he exploded, marching up into his companion's face in less than an astrosecond. "What did you take? Or are you leaving something horrible behind!?"

"N-no, I'd never!," Wedge protested quickly, backing away from Hot Shot's accusing optics. He was halted in his escape by the edge of the desk as he bumped into it roughly, knocking over the items towered on its surface. "I'm s-sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"Just get out of my way!," the red youngling shouted, shoving the taller recruit aside and dropping to his knee joints to tidy up the mess.

"P-please, let me help," Wedge pleaded, kneeling as well.

Hot Shot slapped his servo as it tried to reach for a comic, glaring at him with the most vile look he could muster. "Don't touch anything! All you Decepticons do is cause trouble for every one else- I don't want your help and I don't want you near me ever again! Now get out!"

The triple-changer felt his lip components move yet his vocalizer had already shut down, leaving him silent in the face of his friend's hate-filled words. Nothing he said could possibly make any of this better. Fists tightening, Wedge turned and marched out of Hot Shot's room, his pedes moving faster and faster until he was in a full run, racing through the empty Academy undisturbed. He barely stumbled into an empty classroom before he broke down, sobbing loudly, face burying itself between his knees as he folded onto the floor. He couldn't live like this.

It was over.

All of it.

**xXx**

"Well," Blades spoke softly, glancing over Heatwave's shoulder curiously, "He has been very cooperative, if not sullen at being locked up in a cage. Perhaps we're being a bit rash? Ratchet did say you were going a bit overboard."

Heatwave tapped at the space bridge keys angrily, the scowl on his face getting deeper and deeper as the helicopter spoke. "Blades," he finally growled out, glancing away from his work, "I stand by my stance. That minibot is a monster, through and through, and I will not have a Decepticon in my Academy!"

Boulder scowled behind the firetruck as well. "Lazerbeak made his apologies, Heatwave. Even the recruits have forgiven him, and they were the ones injured by his panicked onlining," he said, "We can't keep treating others horribly just because of things they might have done in the past. Redemption should be available to all, not just the select few."

The red mech slammed the bridge terminal with a closed fist, enraged. "This is not up for dispute!," he bellowed. "If you aren't going to assist me in connecting to Cybertron, might I kindly suggest you-"

"Professors...?" The whisper-soft vocalizer echoed over the long room, the Autobots' helms turning up to the small platform at the top of the stairs. Wedge looked down on them, his optics dim and his frame drooping along with it.

Blades and Boulder looked at each other worriedly, focusing their concern back on the orange youngling as Heatwave straightened up stiffly, facing Wedge. "Yes, recruit. What seems to be the problem?," he asked.

Wedge set trembling servos on the railing, intakes stalling in his frame. "I... I don't want to be a Rescue 'Bot anymore," he announced somberly.

**C.M.D: The tension builds!**


	6. Chapter 6

**C.M.D: Another update for you all! One more for this year. One might say, yet another update in this "unus annus"...**

"Would you kindly explain why you're thinking of resigning?," Heatwave asked, a scowl still fixed on his face.

The professors and student had relocated deeper into the space bridge's room, allowing them more privacy to talk away from wayward audio receptors. At the question, Wedge lowered his helm, stalling on the words to say. Blades, always so sympathetic, lent forward to be more optic-level with the orange youngling. "Your friends know about you being a Decepticon in the past and they're not taking it well, is that it?," he prodded gently.

The recruit glanced up at the helicopter quickly, dropping his gaze to the floor again when it became too painful to maintain focus on the kind Autobot.

"I do not understand," Boulder interjected, confused. "I've seen the recruits playing and spending time together following the situation with Lazerbeak."

"...it's not them," Wedge mumbled weakly. "It's... Hot Shot."

Three sets of optics shuttered at the revelation, Heatwave being the first to shake of the stupor he'd fallen into. "Wait... You want to quit, all because Hot Shot is taking longer to adjust than the others?," he demanded, crossing his arms over his chestplates in ire. "You are a _team_ now, Wedge, and disputes among the unit need to be tackled head on. You need to take responsibility and talk to Hot Shot to resolve your differences."

Wedge looked horrified at the statement, stammering out a reply. "B-but, he _hates_ me. He said it himself!"

"Then _fix it_ ," the firetruck rebutted, his scowl deepening.

"I _can't_!," the recruit cried, growing more distraught in the face of his instructor's obduracy.

"I will not accept excuses," Heatwave growled, fists curling tightly against his forearms.

Boulder stepped up, a servo held out to the red Autobot. "Heatwave, maybe we can-"

"I love him, okay?!," Wedge shouted, coolant pricking at the corners of his optics as he erupted with unanticipated emotion, "I love Hot Shot and he hates me and I can't take it. How am I supposed to 'fix' his loathing for a situation I had no control over, when I can't even tell him about how I _feel_?! Talking with me will solve nothing and it, it h-hurts too much..."

Blades lifted a servo to his mouth, stunned by the declaration, and even Boulder looked sympathetic to the triple-changer's plight. Heatwave, on the other hand, vibrated with barely constrained fury. "...all this," he started lowly, his tone mounting in intensity with every syllable, "Because of a _crush_?!"

"Heatwave!," Blades gasped, askance at his reaction.

"No, we have rules in place for a reason, Blades," the red mech snapped, his optics narrowing on the recruit, "Romantic affairs are strictly prohibited at the Academy due to these exact situations. I am here to teach the next generation of Rescuers- not coddle broken sparks and kiss scrapped servos. If you can not get over this misplaced infatuation yourself, than you don't deserve to be a recruit! A Rescue 'Bot has no time for complicated, interpersonal relationships."

"Heatwave, that's out of line!," Boulder said, fuming. "Just because you're upset over the Lazerbeak thing, doesn't mean you can take your anger out on Wedge. He's a youngling, not a rock!"

The firetruck rounded on his comrade, enraged, ready to launch into another tirade. Blades pushed between the pair before a fight could erupt, stepping up to Wedge and gently grasping the triple-changer by the shoulder tires. "...are you sure that leaving is what you want to do?," Blades softly asked him, ignoring the other two momentarily.

Wedge's bottom lip component trembled minutely, fighting to keep his tears at bay. "I know what it means for me if I leave, professor," he choked out in response. "But I can't bear to stay and only have him hate me more. He won't change... a-and I can not make him."

Heatwave approached, a servo held out sternly towards the recruit and his expression still stormy. "So be it. Boulder, set the coordinates for Cybertron and start up the space bridge," he commanded over a shoulder, "Wedge, relinquish your mul-T-cog and you may return home."

"I," Blades interrupted, halting Wedge as he reached for the antiquated tool magnetized to his chestplates despondently, "Have another idea. Boulder, can you input the coordinates for Faxian. It seems me and my companion are ready to return."

"What?!," the other three mechs exclaimed.

"Blades, what do you think you are doing? I said he was done here!," Heatwave seethed, looming into the helicopter's face.

Blades held his ground despite this, lip components pursed disapprovingly at the firetruck. "You said he was done here... and I guess he is. But there is plenty for a recruit such as himself back in Faxian," the white mech informed.

The red Autobot scoffed. "And who will teach him- you?!"

Blades' neutral gaze hardened at the taunt. "If I'm good enough to teach here, than I can surely do the same across the planet. Not to mention High Tide and Quickshadow remain posted there as well and they are rich resources of learning. I was already thinking we could open a second department in Faxian for training," he announced to the shock of his comrades. "And it looks like Wedge will get to be my very first student!"

He smiled down on the orange youngling, easing some of the tension that had built up in his cabling.

"You can't do that," Heatwave protested loudly. "The program is only ran here, in my Academy!"

"Well, thank goodness that the team in Faxian is under my guidance and not yours," Blades quipped dryly. "And both you and Wedge have agreed to his unethical dismissal, meaning he is free to pursue other paths.

Boulder smiled at his friend's brutal shutdown towards Heatwave, walking over and starting up the space bridge while their team leader was stunned. The firetruck appeared as though he had a million more words to bellow, but his comm beeped loudly for all to hear, notifying him that he had a transmission incoming. Servos shaking, Heatwave debated what to do, cursing as he jerkily reached up to slam a finger against his audio receptor. "Fragging wonderful timing," he spat sarcastically, changing his tone as the call went through. "Optimus Prime, sir, good to hear from you..."

Then the red Autobot was storming out of the room, shooting a disdainful glare at the recruit as he passed. Wedge sank deeper into his torso at the look, conflicted by guilt and shame. "...Wedge?," Blades called out softly, turning the triple-changer to face him. Green optics were warm and tender as they locked with his own orbs.

"Wedge, do not worry. I know it's not how we thought things would go, but I assure you that I will see your education through back in Faxian. Many of my team there are highly skilled; you will learn so much from them! And once you're certified, we will find you a perfect spot on our team too- if you want to stay on Earth, that is," he went on, comforting the upset youngling.

"I... I guess," Wedge mumbled, his spark not fully into it. It helped to know that he wasn't being ejected back to Cybertron for the time being, he supposed. "Thank you, Professor."

"Blades, the bridge is ready," Boulder piped up.

Blades nodded, turning himself and the orange recruit towards the portal. "Thank you, Boulder. Would you mind gathering Wedge's things and bringing them to me later tonight?"

"Sure thing," the bulldozer smiled. "Safe trip, you two."

Wedge tipped his helm in polite acknowledgment to the farewell, following the helicopter through the bridge and to the unknown.

**xXx**

"Have you heard the news!," Whirl shouted, running into the student lounge. She barely managed to tone down her squeal of joy, pinning her arms to her torso to keep from flailing them. Her rotors were not so easily held and shook loudly instead. "We're going back to regular classes tomorrow! Starting with a sim mission!"

"That's fantastic!," Hoist exclaimed, his smile as bright as the femme's.

"Indubitably," Medix agreed, not so voluminous as his companions, but no less enthusiastic at the announcement. "I feared our learned skills would go to rust with the lack of activity."

"Oh, I know," Whirl gushed, now bouncing in place, "I can't wait to get back into the field: catch some criminals, rescue distressed kittens, solve the mystery of the missing banana! We should go have a practice sim now, like right now!"

The white youngling raised a servo politely to catch the femme's flickering attention. "I believe Hero Hall was closed during this hiatus, Whirl, to ensure we were resting as instructed," he pointed out.

Whirl paused in her little dance, disappointment registering on her face for a moment. "Oh... oh, OH!," she shouted, getting excited all over again, "We can set up our own rescue scenario in the action matrix. Where's Chuck?!"

"Where's who?," Hot Shot asked, walking into the lounge just then. He held a deactivated Cube tucked under one arm, glancing at the exuberant femme oddly before looking at the other two recruits questioningly.

"Hey, Hot Shot," Hoist greeted. "We're getting back to classes tomorrow. Whirl just found out."

"And we're re-starting with a sim mission," the blue youngling squealed out. "Let's go practice! I'll get Wedge."

Hot Shot scowled a little as his friend ran from the room, heading into the connecting hallway that led to their quarters. "Do we really need to bring _him_ along?," he grumbled, to the bafflement of his remaining teammates.

"Wedge is a key member of this team," Medix said first, looking the multi-changer up and down critically. "Why wouldn't he partake in the rescues with us? Apart from that, did you forget that Wedge's strength is a necessary tool for multiple scenarios? We are not incapable ourselves, mind you, but too much energy would be exerted trying to replicate Wedge's skills in limited-time rescues."

"Yeah," Hoist chimed in, "Wedge has never failed us before."

The red youngling made a funny sound in the back of his vocalizer, tossing the Cube back and forth in his servos distractedly. "You're exaggerating. Wedge isn't nearly that important; we can do just fine without him."

Medix frowned himself this time, crossing his arms. "If we're going to be excluding members now, perhaps it should be yourself," he remarked dryly.

Hot Shot nearly dropped his cube at the comment. "What?!," he gaped, looking at the medic incredulously.

Hoist looked between the pair, lip components pressed together uncertainly. Medix though went on with confidence. "You've had the worst attitude since Lazerbeak attacked us. You have refused to join us for games, self-study, television watching... You couldn't even be found when we all wanted to play a few rounds of Cube," he said, his blue optics analyzing every reaction coming from the other Autobot. "Given your recent actions, one might surmise that you are avoiding us. Or maybe you're avoiding only _one_ of us."

"I'm not!," Hot Shot growled.

"If this is about Wedge-"

The red recruit released the Cube, kicking it hard across the room, interrupting Hoist as he started to speak with its resounding slam. "It's not about him, got it?!," he shouted, facing his teammates angrily.

Getting annoyed himself now, the green triple-changer opened his mouth, being cut off a second time when Whirl's scream rang out from the outside corridor. "Whirl!," he cried out in panic, spinning around to race to her.

The femme sped into the room before he could, yellow optics wide with horror and budding tears. "W-wedge...," she stuttered, engine turning over several times before her intakes cycled normally and the rest of the words could be spit out, "Wedge's stuff i-is all gone! His room is completely e-empty!"

"What? How?!"

"Why would Wedge move his things?"

"Recruits," a fifth vocalizer spoke up. Turning on the spot, the younglings found themselves looking up at Chase as he walked into the lounge, his expression mildly concerned. "Is everything alright? I heard shouting from down the hall."

"P-professor Chase," Whirl hiccuped, leaping forward towards the older mech. "Wedge's things are all gone from his room and I can't reach him on the comms!"

"Oh..." Chase paused, looking a bit sympathetic as he patted the femme's helm awkwardly. "Do not be too upset, Whirl. Wedge is not in any danger."

"But he's still missing, professor!," Hoist interjected, worried.

"Not so," the police mech replied. "Wedge has simply resigned from the Academy."

A cacophony of startled and upset cries projected from the group of younglings. Mildly alarmed at their reactions, Chase took a step back, resetting his vocalizer before speaking again. "I... Am sorry, recruits," he shared honestly, "But I'm afraid I do not know the circumstances of his resignation; it happened while I was away yesterorn."

"Don't be too disheartened...," he tried to soothe, hesitating over his next words at their anguished expressions, "On occasion, some recruits find that this path is not for themselves during training and return home. The other professors and I will ensure that your training going forward will ease you into operating as a four-member unit. Now, it is getting late... Perhaps an early recharge would be best."

"...okay, professor Chase," Hoist mumbled sadly, stepping up and gently grasping Whirl's arm. She looked at the green youngling miserably, yet allowed him to pull her away from the older Autobot.

Medix followed the pair as they headed out into the next hallway, shooting a scathing look toward Hot Shot. "I'm sure there were external factors that forced Wedge's decision," he mumbled aloud, marching stiffly out of the lounge.

Hot Shot flinched mid-bow picking up his Cube, his audio receptors catching the white recruit's hushed words as he left. Standing upright, the multi-changer glanced around the lounge, realizing belatedly that he was all alone. Slowly, his gaze dropped to the floor, optics dimming at the same time in silent guilt.

**C.M.D: The End is Near... #MementoMori; #WeWereHere**


	7. Chapter 7

With a successful trumpet, the simulation disintegrated, leaving four younglings standing in the centre of the room, looking less than happy despite the results. "Congratulations, recruits," Chase called from the control podium. His casual smile was intended to be uplifting, yet its effect did not reach the students. "It has been a very difficult month, I understand, but your transition to a four-unit team is proceeding at an exponential rate. After a few more lessons and sim missions, I dare say you will all be ready for active field work. You should be proud of yourselves, recruits."

A few non-commital grunts and mumbles responded to the police 'bot's words.

"You are released for the orn, recruits. Don't forget to finish your chores before your evening refuel," the professor said, shutting down the simulator entirely and leaving the room.

The younglings lingered for a klik in place, unsure what to do with themselves now that they had so much free time left in the orn. Hot Shot was the first to break out of his gloomy reprieve, turning to Hoist with a smile that was only partially sincere. "Hey, Hoist, you wanna catch some Cube with me?," he asked.

The triple-changer attempted to return the look, his lip components managing an odd twisting at the corners instead. "Sorry, Hot Shot, I... I got other things still waiting on me to finish and I just don't think I have the energy to play. Maybe another time?"

The red youngling felt his shoulders sag an inch. "Uh, y-yeah... Okay. Another time. Whirl?," he called, turning to the femme next.

She looked back at her teammate, shaking her helm slowly. "Oh, I'm sorry too, Hot Shot. I need to get some extra studying in for Professor Chase's special exam tomorrow," she answered. "I just don't have the time to play now."

Hot Shot snapped his fingers, his smile straining now to stay upon his face. "Hey, that's cool. Good luck, eh? U-um..." The multi-changer turned to glance in Medix's direction as the other two recruits headed out of Hero Hall, resetting his vocalizer while he attempted to find his courage to speak.

Medix's baby blue optics snapped up toward the other Autobot, a firm scowl identical to Ratchet's fixed on his lip components. "No," he intoned curtly, putting away the last of his medical supplies and marching from the room.

Hot Shot didn't even bother protesting or pretending that he was fine. Helm hanging, the red youngling was the last to leave Hero Hall, meandering through the Academy and into the action matrix. It was empty, as most orns, a Cube sitting on the nearby bleachers, waiting for a game to start. Forcing his legs to move, Hot Shot collected the game item, activating it and letting it flit around the field a bit before he gave chase. The multi-changer caught it several times, playing to complete absorption, holding it in his servos one last time as it released its energon burst.

His spark just wasn't into this...

Hot Shot looked down on the deactivated Cube, optics dimming in return. He didn't want to play this; Cube was just another activity that he pushed himself to complete in an orn, in an attempt to act like everything was normal. But nothing was normal, he thought bitterly. Wedge turned out to be a Decepticon, then he left and suddenly they were a four-member team instead of a five-member team, which was a huge change that they were expected to somehow just adapt to despite having spent so much of their training learning how to operate on a larger crew... None of his friends were happy any more and they certainly didn't have the time to spare for Hot Shot either. It was spark-snuffing, how horrible his life had become.

As he had a few nights over this month, Hot Shot pondered if it would be best that he just quit again... and never came back.

While the recruit mulled this over in silence, his comm beeped loudly; lazily, the multi-changer reached up and pinged it on. "Yeah?"

"You have a vid-call, recruit," Boulder's calm vocalizer answered on the other end, "An old friend of yours. You can use the comm system in classroom A, Hot Shot, just don't stay on too long."

Hot Shot perked a little at the notice, his attention hinging on the mention of a "friend".

"Um, yeah, okay! Thanks, professor Boulder!," he replied, ending the comm and tossing the cube off to the side of the field. With a quickened step, Hot Shot made his way to the classroom, the flashing icon of a waiting call reflecting on the teacher's desk. He paused, both anxious and excited, forcing himself to cycle a heavy intake as his hovering finger finally pressed on the receive button. A holoscreen flashed into sight, a familiar face smiling on the screen.

"...oh, hey, Scorch," the recruit greeted, smile fading to a neutral line.

"Hot Shot," the pro-star returned jovially, "Why the sour face? I would have thought you would be happy to hear from your dear friend!"

"You showcased what our 'friendship' really meant to you the last time we spoke," Hot Shot reminded, his lip components pulling downwards slightly.

Scorch pressed a servo to his chestplates at the words, his expression twisting in pain. "Hot Shot, I... I messed up, I know. I said some things that I didn't mean and I really hurt you. I'm sorry for that," the yellow Autobot apologized, his tone soft. "I hope you can find it in your spark to forgive me. You really mean a lot to me, don't you know?"

The multi-changer refrained from responding to the statement, rolling his optical sensors mutely. The other youngling didn't comment, if he even noticed, clicking his vocalizer shortly before speaking again. "So... What's going on with you and the other recruits? Everything good?," Scorch asked, idly looking about the scope of the room visible through his side of the screen.

Hot Shot shrugged, falling into the desk chair stiffly. "All's fine, I guess."

"And Wedge?," the pro-star inquired, his attention sliding back to the recruit.

The red Autobot's shoulders rose defensively as he crossed his arms, staring at a minuscule scuff beat into the desk leg. "Why do you want to know?," he demanded suspiciously.

The yellow youngling laughed, his tone teasing as he answered. "Well, you said he was your best buddy and all. I just wanted to see how you and your new friend were faring."

"Not any more, he isn't...," Hot Shot mumbled lowly, his arms tightening in front of his chestplates.

Scorch leaned forward on the vid-call, his optics narrowing at the hushed words. "Did something... happen?," he pressed. When the red youngling didn't reply, the pro-star huffed softly, taking a step back and rolling a shoulder in boredom. "Anyhow, I thought I'd call and share with you the good news," Scorch added, a smirk coming to his face as Hot Shot's attention shot back up to the screen.

"What news?," the multi-changer inquired, confused. The other youngling's smirk grew, unsettling Hot Shot a bit.

"You're looking at the first of the applicants selected for the Academy's new class of recruits!," he announced cheerfully, "We're set to ship out in a few orns. You really convinced me on what an awesome career being a Rescuer was, so after giving it some serious thought, I finally decided I'd like to be a Rescue 'Bot as well. Isn't that great?"

The red Autobot shuttered his optics in a daze, his mouth open as he tried to find his glossa through the shock resonating inside of him. "U-um," he pushed out, vocalizer clicking awkwardly as it reset with the effort, "Yeah, that's... fantastic. Super, actually."

Scorch looked proud of himself, a servo brushing against his chestplates briefly as he puffed up in arrogance. "But of course it is. I'm going to own those classes. And," the pro-star said, fixing his focus back on his meek companion, "Being on Earth will give us more time to hang out. I'm looking forward to seeing more of you again, Hot Shot."

Hot Shot struggled to keep the flinch minimal. "Well, that's really neat," he hurriedly replied, jumping to his pedes. "I can't wait for you to get here. Alright, I gotta go now. Chores, you know. See ya!"

Scorch's farewell barely registered through the holoscreen before the recruit ended the call, stepping back and rubbing an arm anxiously. The pro-star's words echoed in his helm following the sudden silence, bringing more of a chill to Hot Shot's frazzled neural net. A few orns... Only a few orns until he had to share a space with Scorch. A flash of orange and warm arms flit across his memory archives for barely an astrosecond, leaving Hot Shot to grip his arm tighter as the cold left a frosty trail around his spark.

What was he going to do...?

**xXx**

"Well done, Skipper! I haven't had such an attentive student in a long time- and one that actually soaks up my teaching," High Tide complimented, his larger servos clapping the recruit on the shoulders heavily.

Wedge took each of the rough pats with stride, smiling up at the old seamech. "Thank you, sir," he replied, saluting respectively to his teacher.

The veteran's grin broadened at the action, his servo gently shoving the front-loader towards the gangplank of his ship. "Alright, off with ya land-lubber. I've got a schedule to keep and have no more time for guppies."

The orange youngling nodded, hurrying along and descended from the boat onto the pier. He watched for a moment as High Tide tidied up the last of the top deck, before disappearing inside the bowels of his ship, no doubt to continue working on whatever personal projects he had. The blue Autobot was a stickler for keeping busy- it was this, plus his militant-style of teaching and candid personality that really appealed Wedge towards the older mech. Blades had been right when he said Faxian had instructors who were rich with knowledge. The recruit had learned so much from the unusual mechs here in China than he had back at the Academy, in half the time he'd spent under Heatwave's tutelage.

It almost made him not miss being with the others...

Intakes stalling momentarily, Wedge forced himself to start the trek up the pier, hardly focusing on the humans as they milled about, busy with their daily lives. He checked his internal chronometer, as before, silently bemoaning the date. A month... It had been well over an Earth month since the whole debacle back at the Academy. Did anyone even care that he was gone? No, probably not, he thought bitterly, otherwise his comm line wouldn't have been so void of contact.

Wedge wanted to be angry, he really did, but even telling himself that he was mad didn't make the emotion stick. He wasn't mad at being forced out of the Academy unintentionally, he was _miserable_. Blades worked really hard to try and make the front-loader's transition to Faxian as smooth as possible: scheduling him with an orn's full of lessons, meet-and-greets with various humans of importance in the city, assigning him with general rescue tasks of his own to oversee... And they were great options for the construction recruit. Oh, absolutely! They gave Wedge a sense of purpose, an active display of how beneficial his presence and skills were, not to mention more time to acclimate to a human population without having to be undercover! Yet...

Yet it was not the life he'd grown accustomed to at the Academy. It wasn't the lifestyle he'd grown happy with, where his friends were always nearby. It wasn't the future he'd secretly hoped he'd have, with Hot Shot next to him.

Miserable again, Wedge made his way to the Rescue 'Bot bunker in Faxian's quieter warehouse district, dragging his pedes as he wandered into the building. Blades was currently on the open floor, chatting with some humans via drones. He noticed the orange youngling's entrance and, with some kind but hurried farewells, he crossed the bunker, intercepting the front-loader before he could escape to his quarters.

"Wedge, how was your lesson with High Tide?," the helicopter asked, smile sincere as he focused it on the recruit.

Wedge paused, glancing up at the white mech before looking somewhere off on the ground, fingers scratching at the side of his leg subconsciously. "U-uh... good. I guess. He's a great teacher," he replied.

"And I hear you are his favourite student," Blades chuckled, bending to be more level with the youngling. He winked at the ex-Decepticon when he caught his optics. "Just don't let High Tide know I told you. He prefers to be scary on the outside to hide his lovable interior."

Despite his mood, the orange recruit laughed under an intake, lifting his helm up to his teacher. He paused, unsure of how to phrase his question, an act that Blades noticed. Standing up straight, the older mech tilted his helm to the side curiously. "...Did you want to go back?," he asked softly.

Wedge felt his neural net crackle at the question, shaking his helm in a panic. "N-no!," he stammered in protest, "N-no, I c-couldn't do that. B-but... I, I do wish I could talk to my friends. I miss them."

"I understand," the helicopter replied, his optics dimming in mutual sadness with the recruit. "I'd love nothing more than to let you comm your friends. But it seems that Heatwave has blocked all outgoing comms from Faxian and this outpost specifically. Probably as a means to punish myself, more than you. I'm sorry."

The orange youngling shuttered his optics at the news, stunned. "H-he... what? Why would he do that?!," he demanded, growing angrier by the astrosecond.

Blades lifted his servos placidly, but his fractured smile belied the affect Heatwave's actions had on him. "I'm not sure, Wedge, though I promise you that I am thinking of other means of communication."

The front-loader's optics brightened at the older Autobot's deflection, realization sinking in as the helicopter turned away slightly. "Professor, are you and Heatwave...?"

"Hm?," Blades hummed questioningly, looking back on the recruit. "Was there something you wanted to say, Wedge?"

"E-eh, no," the youngling mumbled, clicking his vocalizer a few times. He wasn't so sure that Blades believed him, yet he didn't pry.

"Well, I won't hold you here any longer. I'm sure you have many other things you'd like to do this orn," the white mech spoke, resting a servo softly on one of the triple-changer's shoulder tires. "Just remember that you're not alone and feeling sad is okay. I'm here if you ever need me, for talking, for distracting... Whatever you might want, Wedge."

Coolant rose to his heating optics, the orange recruit mute with swelling emotion. He'd never had someone be so emotionally supportive as Blades was with him every orn. "T-thank you, professor," Wedge managed to choke out, a weak grin coming to his lip components.

"Any time," Blades returned, his own smile warm and tender.

**C.M.D: Drama, drama, drama~**


	8. Chapter 8

**C.M.D: Just a reminder that Bumblebee and Grimlock are look and have the personalities more like their RID selves, 'cause, well, that series is ACTUALLY tied into the Rescue Bots continuity and Prime. I am though still keeping a few things the same, such as Grimlock being an awesome Cube player, etc etc, so please mind the differences should you notice them.**

Hot Shot was heading out into the front yard for his scheduled sweeping when he heard voices echoing from behind the school. Dragging his broom behind him, the red youngling slowly crept up the side of the Academy, peeking out around the corner curiously. He was alarmed to see that Grimlock was standing in the courtyard, surrounded by the other recruits. Was there a lesson planned that he hadn't been told about?

"...so, yeah," Hoist was saying, his helm tucked down shyly, "Professor Ratchet says I need to avoid transforming to dino-mode until the next decacyle, when he can properly stress test my new ligaments and ensure they won't cause me problems."

"Well, I'm sorry that nasty lil' seed-sucker clipped you so bad," Grimlock replied, teeth showing as he grimaced irritably. "Back heels can be a tender spot for many a two-peded dinobot like us." He glanced down as best as he could in his tyrannous form, glaring at his ankles sourly.

"What is going to happen to Lazerbeak, Professor?," Medix asked. "Heatwave has been holed up in his office for a long time since the minibot's...uh... appearance, and we're still instructed to stay clear of that portion of the hallway- even when doing chores."

The t-rex looked up, shuttering his optics in confusion for an astrosecond as he processed what the tiny Autobot had said. "Oh. Yeah, Optimus sent Bumblebee instructions on that," he informed casually, "That's what I'm here for. Bee's gonna tag the little squawker with a no-fly chip and then he's gonna be relocated back to our base for some, um... what did he call it... rehabilitation?"

"He's staying on Earth?!," Whirl cried out in surprise. "Why? I thought all Decepticons were supposed to be incarcerated!"

Grimlock squinted at the recruits in puzzlement. "And why would he be?"

"Because Decepticons are evil and all are preset to kill," Hoist supplied immediately.

That made the dinobot snap his helm upwards in alarm, giant fangs bared as he leaned back down to the younglings with a snarl. "And who told you that exactly?," he demanded.

The green triple-changer squeaked frightfully at the sudden aggression, hopping behind Whirl as she too gulped at the unexpected change in their teacher's attitude. Only Medix didn't take a step back, though his optics were flared warily. Even Hot Shot felt his plating quake in terror, unnoticed by the group in his hiding spot. "...We overheard Professor Heatwave talking," the white youngling answered finally.

Grimlock snorted in ire, taking a step back and pacing about for a couple kliks. He stopped shortly, turning to the recruits again with a heavy vent. "Listen, you're young sparks so I'm going to let it slide, but you do not get to comment on the things of the past."

"But-," Medix began.

"No," the older mech snapped, baring his fangs again. "You do not pass judgment calls on things you know nothing about! You are observers to an event that ended before your time; you have no understanding of what really took place or how it affected those who lived through it. 'Bots are more than a badge, recruits, and not everyone had a choice in which side they stood on."

Blank stares met the dinobot and he cycled a deep intake. Taking a step back, there came the sounds of an initiating transformation sequence and suddenly, there was a large mech standing in the spot that the t-rex had just once been in. "P-professor!," Hoist exclaimed first, "Y-you have a bipedal form?!"

Hot Shot leaned closer around the side of the Academy, his optics flared brightly at the surprising turn of events. Broad shoulders, easily as big as one youngling each, massive calves, and a mouth full of smaller fangs under optics that twinkled with child-like joy- who knew that their teacher was both terrifying and kinda cuddly-looking as a real 'bot?

Grimlock shuffled in place for a couple moments, swinging his arms back and forth as he twisted his helm side to side. "Yeah, I know. I sometimes hang out in dino mode too long and forget I got working fingers myself." He paused, grinning as he waggled long claws at the trio, before his handsome face became serious once more. Kneeling, he gave each of the triple-changers a pointed look, continuing the somber conversation, "I know it can seem real easy to say you know things -what with all those books condemning Decepticons- but data texts only carry so much and they leave out the most important stuff."

"...They do?," Whirl asked hesitantly.

The dinobot nodded. "Yes. The war was long and it was cruel, young sparks... I won't share with you the things I saw, but I need you to understand something very important: A badge is _not_ a 'bot. Plenty of poor sparks got swept up into Megatron's machinations, and yeah, some heinous things were done by his closest associates. Yet there were many more who were threatened, or tricked or simply beaten into wearing his mark. And at the end of the orn, they were expendable; just another pawn to gain some ground in his war or die trying. Megatron didn't care. He knew he could find more or have more protoformed for his purposes."

The recruits all looked horrified at the information, frames drooping contritely as their teacher spoke. Hot Shot felt his knee joints weaken under him as well, tanks roiling hard, leaving him nauseous. Decepticons were that cruel, even to their own kind...?

"...ya know, Bumblebee doesn't talk about it, 'cause to him it don't matter, but I once carried the Decepticon brand," Grimlock shared, reaching up and scratching at the Autobot symbol painted on his shoulder plating. "I'm big and strong, a perfect soldier... I was caught by some Decepticon helm hunters. But no matter what they did, they could not break me." He smiled at the younglings, though it didn't reach his optics entirely.

"A brand doesn't make a 'bot. Some of the older 'bots forget that -and they're willing to destroy anybot who came from that side just 'cause of their own horrible experiences- but there's even more of us trying to live right and shed that nightmarish part of the past. Sure, you got your zealots, unwilling to give up Megatron's fight... One 'bot though is not completely the same as the next," the dinobot said kindly, "And Optimus Prime will be the first to tell you that every spark is deserving of a chance at redemption. He never stopped believing Megatron could change, even at their final face-off."

Hot Shot felt his equilibrium shift abruptly and barely caught himself on the wall, realizing that his processor had blanked for a few astroseconds at the flux of information. It was hard to believe that someone like Grimlock could be a former Decepticon -the gigantic dinobot who was laughably clumsy at times no thanks to his size, who enjoyed a good game of Cube with friends and was terrified of cats- but wasn't that what he had just told them? And Bumblebee -Megatron's killer- was okay with it?! Perhaps even more shocking was his hero, Optimus Prime, willing to defend any Decepticon, Megatron included.

The multi-changer felt his energon chill in his lines, his optics, in contrast, heating exponentially. What would Optimus think of the youngling if he knew that he hated all Decepticons and said that they were evil, and scum, and deserved to be killed...? His nausea spiked, causing Hot Shot to slap a servo to his mouth in fear that he would purge out of stress alone.

"Hey, what's going on, guys?," Bumblebee's vocalizer called out as the ex-scout walked onto the courtyard from the Academy's back door. Intakes cycling in broken heaves, the red recruit peeked back around the corner of the building, watching as the yellow mech approached the group.

Already, Grimlock had returned to dinobot mode, his great tail moving in time with his helm. "Nothing much. Just talking to the recruits about... well, unfortunate things...," he confessed sadly.

"Ah," Bumblebee replied, his own expression softening in joyless understanding. He smiled at Hoist, Medix and Whirl, adjusting the cage he carried in one servo. "I don't want to tell you not to think about this stuff, but I promise you all, Cybertron has changed from those past vorns. The people here now are all working to be the best they can be and if you need to, just remember, you can always talk to me about your worries or questions."

"Professor," Medix started first, his optics shifting to Lazerbeak repeatedly, glaring out from his mobile cell, "What is going to become of Lazerbeak?"

"Oh yes, him," the ex-scout sighed, his tone a bit more jovial despite the sound. He lifted the minibot's cage up, locking optics with the avian. "Well, he's going to have to spend some time with my team here on Earth for a while. He'll get some privileges, limited freedom to roam within our base perimeters and whatnot, but Lazerbeak will need to stay under periodic supervision. He'll also need to be punished for some of his uncalled behaviour since being planet-side. I'm thinking he can help Fixit catalogue his Earth critters, starting with formal cybertronian lexicon, followed by region, colouration, special attributes... The works."

"That's his punishment? Filing?," Hoist piped up, confused.

"That and some other menial chores and whatnot. I'm sure our human friends can think of some other activities for him to partake in too," Bumblebee added.

"Is it wise to let him near humans?," Whirl asked, peering at the minibot from a safe distance. "What if he hurts them- accidental or otherwise?"

The yellow Autobot inclined his helm toward the femme, sticking a finger into the cage to gently prod at a wing. "Well, if he does that, it'll count against his parole and that would be unfortunate. Lazerbeak isn't a loyal Decepticon -in fact, he's really only faithful to his previous master, Soundwave- and if he'd simply try, he'd have a really nice life here. Slag, Soundwave could have a chance at freedom too if he'd just stop trying to uphold Megatron's past ideals," Bumblebee said, giving Lazerbeak a wry look. "Even Starscream let the Decepticon cause die out after ol' Megs took off; you'd think Soundwave would have more than a fraction of the common sense Starscream carries regularly."

Lazerbeak gave a trumpeting squawk of outrage at the statement, lunging forward to snip at the intruding finger. Fortunately, the ex-scout was quicker. Angry that his target had retreated to the relative safety outside the cage, the avian flapped his wings as he turned away from the Autobots, lifting his tail feathers up at them in silent ire.

"Hey!," Grimlock growled at the rude gesture.

"Oh, don't mind him," the ex-scout soothed, "He gets cranky and gives people the silent treatment, heavy with attitude, when things don't go how he likes. Particularly if it involves insulting Soundwave in some fashion."

"How long is he expected to stay on Earth?," Medix inquired. He was looking more dubious about this whole plan, following Lazerbeak's childish fit.

Bumblebee hummed, studying the sullen minibot for a few astroseconds. "You know, I'm not really sure," he answered honestly. "This is all Optimus' idea. He thinks that, seeing as how Cybertron is a bit too... tense... for Lazerbeak right now, that our lil' friend here might have a better time rehabilitating himself among more open-minded peers. Only if he's willing, of course. So-"

He'd heard enough. Hot Shot slid back to the front of the Academy quickly, dropping the broom in his haste, visual pixels scattering as his optics were swamped with tears and his processor pounding. Optimus Prime was willing to forgive Lazerbeak too. The Decepticon minibot! If he knew of all the things the youngling had done, the older mech would surely be disgusted with him. A sob choked its way out of his vents as Hot Shot raced into the school and through the quiet halls to the empty student quarters. Running for his berth could not change how the multi-changer's spark broke in the knowledge that he opposed all of his hero's ideal and was _still_ wrong in his stance.

Yet that pain did not hold a candle to the agonizing memory that rose up just then: Of Wedge's tortured expression as he bared the brunt of the red recruit's unfounded condemnation and wishes to disappear.

And he really had vanished from their lives, just as Hot Shot had wanted.

**xXx**

"Hot Shot, would you mind following me?"

The recruit paused, turning his helm towards Heatwave. "U-uh, yeah. Sure thing, Chief," Hot Shot replied, putting the broom back in the utility room and closing the door. He hurried to catch up with his mentor, who'd already set off at a slow pace through the academy halls.

"I'm glad to see you've been keeping busy," Heatwave began casually, the hint of a smile showing from the side of his visage. "I admit you were pretty rough around the edges when you first arrived but you've really grown into your potential. I'm proud of your efforts, Hot Shot."

The youngling felt his spark rotate quickly, a grin of his own trying to rise up but struggling. The veteran Rescuer had been the hardest to prove his worth too when Hot Shot had come to Earth, and he'd been equally as unimpressed with his professor as Heatwave had been with him, yet he'd grown to admire the firetruck greatly over the months. Hearing that he made his mentor proud was like a dream come true! At the same time though, it was a jagged knife twisting into his side... His awe for Heatwave was rivaled only by that which he carried for Optimus, and only now did Hot Shot become aware of the glaring differences between the two older mechs.

Optimus advocated for the rights of all, plus the peace and good-will towards even those like the Decepticons. He would never condone hateful acts against others nor kill where he could save. Heatwave held a clean, cut opinion of the Decepticons; condemning them where they stood, whether or not they were guilty. He was set in his judgment that every 'con deserved to be locked away for the side they had been on and refused to remain in their presence longer than he could control. It was a wonder that he'd even allowed Wedge to be a recruit! Despite his extended loathing towards Decepticons, the Rescuer was still a loyal, supportive teacher who cared about the safety and livelihood of those around him and would do all in his power to maintain that. Knowing all this, Hot Shot could only be torn on where he stood in his beliefs. Who was right? And who was he supposed to follow: the mentor he respected or the hero he idolized?

"T-thank you. Sir," the youngling mumbled out, shuttering his optics repeatedly in an attempt to cool his overheating helm. He wasn't going to solve this spiritual conundrum this orn or anytime soon and getting a processor ache would not help his case either. "U-umm, what are we doing today, Chief?," Hot Shot asked, remaining on his professor's heels as they walked.

It did not escape the recruit's notice that Heatwave led them to the space bridge's room, his spark pulsing with a budding thrill of excitement. Maybe finally he'd get away from this Academy for a while and all of the troubles that were plaguing him. The firetruck smiled as he typed away at the bridge's control panel, sending an amused side-long glance to his protégé.

"Are we going off base?!," Hot Shot shouted out, unable to suppress his eagerness any longer. "Where are we gonna go to? A forest? City? Oh, oh, Cybertron!"

"We are not going anywhere ourselves," Heatwave answered, stepping over and standing beside the youngling, resting a strong servo on the other's shoulder plating. He gave it a reassuring squeeze as the multi-changer looked up at him curiously, just as the swirling vortex of light erupted, growing larger as the space bridge activated. "But I wanted my best student with me when we greeted the new class to the Academy."

Fuel tanks plummeting to the floor, Hot Shot watched with horrified optics as five forms began to appear through the blinding daze of the bridge's tunnel, held in place by the older Autobot's heavy servo, until finally a yellow frame was the last to cross the threshold and onto the Academy's grounds.

"Hot Shot!," Scorch called out, his devilish smile pulled wide upon his face under unreadable optics.

The red youngling shook silently at the sound of his name escaping those impish lip components.

Scorch was here to stay...

How could he have forgotten?

**C.M.D: Drama train is picking up speed! Choo Choo!**


	9. Chapter 9

**C.M.D: Sorry to everyone who was looking for an update the last couple fridays. I had a surplus of chapters in the beginning but now that my writing has slowed down I'll be going back to my usual update period -on the 14/15 of each month. In either case, I'm happy to drop this here for you all to read and I hope you enjoy some (non-canon) flashbacks scenes!**

He couldn't recall the early orns of his existence. They'd started in darkness and most shifts they stayed in it, except for the few times their tiny little asteroid circled into a star's visible path. On those shifts, the sparkling reveled in the warmth of the distant solar rays and the beauty of an outstretching cosmos. If he only had wings... Dust kicked up behind him, drawing the sparkling out of his secret musings and towards its source.

He found his unit mate, Browning, wriggling out from a freshly burrowed hole in the asteroid's surface. "We've got nothing," the pint-sized sparkling spoke over commlink, "Again."

"Finback will not be pleased," an older Decepticon replied, looking over the shorter 'bots. His designation was Borebit and aside from watching over the younger soldiers, he also used his drill in vehicle-mode to perforate the rock base they were posted on to source out materials. Materials desperately needed for the Decepticon cause, as their unit leader Finback always said.

"We've made a thousand little turborat nests at this point," another mech added irritably. Skip was his name, and he'd certainly been online longer than the sparklings, though only by a handful of vorns. "Finback has got to admit that this husk has nothing to provide for us this time 'round. We're burning away rations and energy mining for slag that don't exist!"

Borebit glanced at his comrade, expression unreadable behind his mouthguard. "Be that as it may, until we receive orders, Finback will not abandon our mission."

Browning bounced over to the watching sparkling, dusting himself off irritably. "This is getting stupid, don'tcha think, Wedge?," he asked, switching over to a private frequency.

He wanted to agree but he wasn't sure... Mining was all they did, all he knew how to do, and though the young spark certainly could see that the last hundred shifts had resulted in no finds, he lacked the experience to know if their efforts were all in vain or not.

Skip was kicking up into another tirade over the comms when the astropod's message was hijacked by another one. "Mobilize back to base," came Howlback's crisp command. "Incoming enemy shuttle."

Borebit transformed at once, the other Decepticons clambering to climb on top as the drilltank rolled over the misshapen terrain rapidly. "A-are we really going to fight?!," Browning squeaked nervously, looking towards Skip for answers.

"Of course!," the youngling snapped, shooting a scowl towards the younger soldiers. "Megatron demands we stamp out all Autobot aggressors on sight. No mercy! They'd spare none for us and nor would the defectors or the unaffiliated. You've both practiced enough for this; just stick with Wedge and never take your optics off the enemy."

They were nearing their parked ship, and already Howlback was out of sight. No doubt, the feline minicon had bounded into the craggy hillside once the orders were sent out to find herself a defensible, lil' hidey-hole to ambush the unknown arrivals from. Finback, the disintegrating hovercraft, stood stationed at the gangplank of their ship; a dual-barreled blaster as large as Skip held in one of his old servos. "Took ya rust slugs long 'nuff," the sailor grumbled towards the group, his wheezing vents sending puffs of dust and small rock debris to float off aimlessly into the void of space. "Formation gamma, now! And Browning, ya best keep those sight lines far away from me fins or I'll remodel ya inta my personal waste collector."

Browning squeaked out a promise, while Borebit returned to bidepal mode, taking off to the right of their base alongside Skip. Wedge quietly moved to the left, knowing that the other sparkling was on his heels. The battle-old pistol that the orange soldier pulled out of subspace was still significantly larger than his servo was; heavy between his palms and stained from experiences that Wedge himself had never lived. Only over half of an energon charge was left in the barrel -he'd used a few during the one and only practice session Finback had allowed for- and now he'd have to use the remainder to shoot down Autobot assailants or other unknowns. They'd be lucky if there was enough ammo left among them collectively to survive this raid.

There wasn't time to think about that though. Browning was leaning up against the front-loader's shoulder, holding his own over-sized weapon in shaking fingers. Optics drifting up to the enemy shuttle that had hovered to a stop a mile away, Wedge watched uncertainly as the hangar doors were opened... and the only mech whose name he knew of in all of the Autobot army drifted out...

**xXx**

"OWW!"

Cupping his helm, Wedge stumbled to the floor, glaring slightly up at the femme as she approached him. "Did you have to hit so hard?!," he demanded, checking his servos for energon, before gingerly feeling out the dent she had made.

Quickshadow quirked an optic ridge at the youngling, resting a servo on a hip as she paused by his side. "Need I remind you that you agreed to these lil' games of... hide and spar," she replied. "If you are going to be distracted, perhaps I should be training you as per my own standard of studies."

The orange youngling cringed a bit. "I thought Blades said no training regimens that could kill me..."

The sports car vented softly in muted ire. "Yes, he did set those parameters," she conceded. "A shame. A proper tutelage would temper you with an arsenal of practical skills, including an improved reaction time, mobility, risk assessment... But I suppose being a bit quicker on the draw is acceptable."

Wedge scowled a bit at the backhanded compliment, before his expression twisted to one of contemplation. "...Professor, were you really an assassin?," he inquired quietly.

Quickshadow shuttered her optics slowly, mumbling something that oddly sounded like "I hate this planet" before facing the triple-changer again. "Yes," she quipped shortly. There was no hesitation nor remorse in her reply and that alarmed the youngling a bit.

Standing up, the recruit looked up at the femme, steeling himself as he continued his questions. "Did... How many Decepticons did you kill?"

"You mean, did I murder any of your past affiliates," she corrected for him. Wedge cringed a second time, found out. The former spy folded her arms over her chestplates, her expression neutral. "I have taken down many Decepticons and Decepticon-sympathizers during the war," she indulged. "And have embarked on more missions than I shall ever share with you, newspark, but no. Borebit and Skip were felled by others, and the closest contact I had with Finback was halting a raid he partook in -the same one that left him sickly after. His condition was not procured by my own actions on that planet."

It felt like his energon lines were filling with ice, leaving Wedge nauseous to his spark. He acknowledged that his old unit were not the best of 'bots at some times, but he'd always hoped that they had made it back to Cybertron like he had and were living new, happier lives than before. Things had deteriorated so quickly after Optimus had first appeared before the construction recruit...Rejecting the Autobot's proposal to join his crew and relocate somewhere safer, they were forced to abandon Megatron's posting as they faced starvation a few decacycles later. Browning was kidnapped by a community of neutrals on an alien planet, never to be seen again. Following that, Finback carried them halfway across an unfamiliar star system before his health turned for the worse. A short burial was held for him before they were moving again. Borebit had guided them to an alien galactic trade hub, in search of a safe haven for forgotten soldiers like themselves, and both him and Skip were promptly separated in an unexpected firefight. Only Howlback was left with him and she had done everything in her power to carry the sparkling and herself back to Cybertron, praying that the rumors of their home world's rebirth were true and that the Prime's promise still held. She was alive back on Cybertron, or so the triple-changer believed, though he couldn't be sure. The minicon had been insistent that Wedge could never see or contact her after they had landed; in her words, it would be easier for him to rejoin a peaceful society if he didn't have a well-known Decepticon soldier tied to his name. He hated that decision even now.

"...w-why... why did you agree to come to Earth?," he mumbled out, unable to find the strength to meet his teacher's gaze this time. "What could a professional murderer have _here_?"

It was silent for klik, forcing Wedge to glance upwards, just to know if he was alone or not. Quickshadow remained positioned to his right, her face contemplative for once, as she gazed somewhere off across the bunker. "I came because a Prime ordered it," she confessed, her vocalizer unusually soft, "And I stayed... I suppose I'm not really sure. Curiousity, perhaps? The war ending was not a reality I thought I'd actually see. I won't pretend that it is not flummoxing to be ripped off a path you were set to drive down, 'til the orn one's spark snuffs out, but maybe that's the truth Optimus wished for me to see. Certainly this planet is rife with millions of roads -some stunted, some twisting- and changing lanes is always an option. Metaphorically speaking, of course."

Wedge found himself fostering a new respect for the silver Autobot at her blunt honesty. "Humans are pretty great at finding new opportunities," he commented, a smile growing on his cheekplates.

The femme sent the youngling a side-long glance, a hint of a chuckle escaping her. "Yes, they can be very... imaginative. And teaching is an interesting endeavor, depending on the student. Now," she inquired, turning bodily toward the triple-changer, "Are you clear-helmed enough to continue with this exercise or shall I leave you to your daydreams?"

There were still a million or so questions buzzing around his helm, but he'd have time to reflect and pursue the most pressing of them later, Wedge argued. Quickshadow was right; now was a time to learn and become better than he was. This was all part of a future that Howlback and Finback had sacrificed for him to have. Rotating his shoulder joints, the orange recruit grinned up at the waiting sports car, engine warming in preparation. "Ready," he said, eagerly.

**xXx**

There was a crispness in the breeze that blew by, rousing the youngling from his trance by its chilling touch. Sluggishly, Hot Shot turned his helm about, trying to understand why he'd come outside in the first place. He didn't think it was because of chores... Something else then? As he mused, the multi-changer found his optics being drawn back to the series of training equipment sitting unused across the open field. Hot Shot could almost hear the swinging clank of metal as weights were lifted by roughened servos; nearly make out an orange frame standing a short distance away from the recruit under the sudden glare of sunlight.

A cloud moved in place quickly, driving the illusion back once more, so that the yard was as empty as it had been when the red youngling had intitally stepped outdoors. The realization made his spark putter weakly in its casing; in contrast, hot coolant rising to his optics. Another breeze blew past and this time Hot Shot acknowledged the drop of temperature with a shiver. Earth's most debilitating season, winter, was cropping up on the Academy again. The second-year recruits would be responsible for ensuring the school was weather-worthy for the change and that included cleaning up the training gym and storing all of its equipment away for spring. Storage containers had been left in the yard for such a task... but that was as far as anyone had gotten. No one, not even Hot Shot himself, could bare to close down the gym. Doing so would cement to them all that Wedge was never coming back.

His intakes caught mid-cycle, a servo lifting to the multi-changer's mouth to stifle any sound that might rise. Primus, Hot Shot thought miserably to himself, he was such a monster of a person. What right did he have to be sad over his friend's absence when he was the one to force him to leave to start with! Calling Wedge 'friend' was too much of a liberty as well. Friends didn't act the way that Hot Shot had.

Look at that... Here he was being self-centered again, focusing on his own feelings in this whole tragedy. Real humble, the red youngling hissed to himself quietly. Wiping at his face quickly, Hot Shot rose to his pedes- and ducked back into his little fort of storage containers immediately after.

Too little, too late.

"Hot Shot," Scorch greeted, rounding into the multi-changer's hidey hole. "What are you doing outside? It's getting cold, my friend."

"C-chores," Hot Shot hurriedly lied. "H-heatwave assigned me a-and the others with shutting down the g-gym before the snow hits. S-season changes, ya k-know."

The pro-star glanced around the yard, an optic ridge quirked in disbelief. "Hmm. Doesn't seem like you got much done yet," he mused aloud, his tone cryptic. "But, I'm glad to know that you are not avoiding us newbies. After all, Heatwave did say we were to seek you out if we had any questions or needed some more guidance around the school."

The shorter Autobot tried to hide his resulting flinch at the words. That's right, Heatwave had made him responsible over Scorch and the other first years- a task that Hot Shot had quickly fled from. He'd been spending all week trying to remain busy and unavailable whenever Scorch wasn't in class; anything to keep from being alone with his former friend. Clearly that hadn't worked out very well.

"So, you actually use any of this stuff?," Scorch was asking, reaching into an open container only partially filled.

"No, stop," Hot Shot interjected, a servo snapping forward to the pair of dumbbells that the yellow recruit was about to grasp, "Those-" _'Those are Wedge's,'_ he had been about to say, but he hesitated anxiously on the confession, realizing he had no place to defend an item just because it had been the orange youngling's favourite to use.

His hesitation was a mistake. Yelping, the multi-changer onlined his optics again to find himself pressed against a stack of bins; a knee between his thighs and his outstretched servo caught in Scorch's tight grip as the pro-star leaned into the other Autobot's personal space. "I heard you discovered the nasty truth about that Wedge guy," Scorch said, his tone soft and sympathetic, pulling the trapped servo towards his cheekplate. "I'm sorry I never said anything sooner. I didn't want to be right about him, but I forgot how that might badly affect you."

Hot Shot squirmed meekly, stopping as the encroaching limb pressed deeper into his personal space, white thigh almost touching his red codpiece. "S-scorch-"

The red recruit's protests were crushed by a resounding squeak; Scorch's hips lined up against his own suddenly and fingers trembling as they were mouthed softly by his assailant. "He didn't do anything to you... right?," the yellow Autobot asked, his optics piercing the other in silent demand, lip components still brushing against a pinkie.

His spark was rotating at dizzying speeds, his fuel tanks taking giant, sickening leaps inside his frame as fear was taking seed in Hot Shot. "N-no! S-scorch, h-he i-isn't- I m-mean...," he mumbled, trying to work his free servo against his former friend's chestplates while tugging on his captured one, "I-it's not l-like that-"

Scorch's grip on his wrist could not be shaken off though, and he bit into the side of Hot Shot's palm as he pressed against the shorter youngling bodily, halting any further attempts to push him away. Denta slowly peeling away from the bruised plating, the yellow recruit gazed down on his hunched companion, mouth moving fleetingly across a grey audio receptor. "It's okay, Hot Shot," came Scorch's enthralling coo, "You don't have to pretend that he was anything good. We all know he was a filthy Decepticon with vile thoughts. I'm here for you and anything you could need, my friend; I promise to never leave you alone."

The pro-star was looking down on him with that smug, deceiving smirk of his- the one that Hot Shot could now recognize and quaked in terror to see. The multi-changer didn't want to have this bully's promise; he didn't want to be forced up against walls and twisted into accepting his good graces and false affections. He only wanted-

"Scorch!"

It was a strange sense of déjà vu as Boulder strode across the field in stern fashion while the two younglings disentangled from each other; his temper contained, but still evident in the downward tug of his mouth. "This is the third time that I am reminding you, Scorch, that as a new recruit you must remain with your group of fellow first-years. You wandering off has once again made you tardy for your next lesson," he gruffly informed. "Now please head directly to Chase's class before I have to punish you with extra chores for this disregard of Academy rules."

"Ah, sorry about that, uh, Professor," Scorch grinned up at the green mech cheekily. "I'm just so happy to be with my dear partner, Hot Shot, I couldn't help myself. But you're right, I'm going now. So, _so_ sorry about my lil' error."

The bulldozer made a small sound of displeasure, watching as the yellow youngling meandered back towards the Academy and finally indoors. Venting irritably, he turned to the second recruit. "And now for- Hot Shot?"

Boulder's ire dissipated immediately upon seeing the multi-changer leaning stiffly against the storage container; optics bright, shining against the river of tears sliding down his cheekplates. "Hot Shot? Hot Shot, are you okay?!," the older Autobot questioned worriedly, dropping to one knee tread. "Hot Shot, what ha-"

"P-professor," the red youngling wheezed, grabbing his teacher's arm with shaking servos as he snapped out of his trance. "Professor, pl-please, t-take me to C-Cybertron. I-i-i... I m-made a mistake. I n-need to a-apologize to W-wedge."

Boulder looked slowly from the desperate optics still laden with unshed coolant, to the smaller fingers digging into his treads with frantic strength. The longer he failed to reply though, the more panicked he noticed the recruit was becoming. "...come with me," was all he said, standing to his full height again.

Hot Shot practically ran after the green mech as he headed back into the Academy, eager to escape and find the last person he should have ever pushed away.

**C.M.D: Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

" _Hey, I finally found him!"_

_Hot Shot dragged himself up to the vendor stall, clambering onto the roof alongside Scorch. His friend chuckled when he slipped but grabbed his elbow and helped drag him up the rest of the way, before the red youngling could fall for good. "Did you really have to send JetBash after me?," Hot Shot scowled, crawling over the roof slowly._

_There was a soft clatter behind the pair, a white youngling with neon green stripes hurrying to scoot up besides the first two. "Hot Shot's just mad I got in the way of him smashing faces with some femme third-seater," JetBash cackled, yanking on a piece of heel plating teasingly._

" _Hey!," Hot Shot hissed, kicking at the other youngling._

" _Don't make him fall," Scorch tsked irritably. "If he ruins the surprise, I_ swear _I'll string you up by your wing tips, Jet! Besides, it's not like he can't shove her back in a storage closet to finish the job, right, Shotty?"_

" _U-um, well...," Hot Shot reset his vocalizer uncomfortably, hurrying to overtake Scorch past the safety barriers securing the vendor stall to the rest of the stadium. "I might not have gotten her... name... or team unit code..."_

_Scorch stifled a laugh, though JetBash did nothing to mute his snorts behind them. "Seriously, Shotty? You couldn't spare one klik to get her name before you started groping each other?," the yellow youngling ribbed._

" _I'll see her again!," Hot Shot huffed irritably, sliding under the final support beam for the lower ringside seats. "I mean, it's the youth center- everyone gathers there. It's not like the elder 'bots let us do anything else. And stop calling me that! It's a stupid name."_

" _So would 'Hotty' be an acceptable substitute then?," JetBash snickered. "You do have some slender lines."_

" _Alright, enough," Scorch snapped. Hot Shot sent the yellow youngling a strange look; losing his temper was very uncharacteristic for his fellow cube player. Scorch glared at their third companion one last time, before smoothing his features and shooting his usual smirk towards the atv-former. "Anyways, forget that crankshaft. We're here for a surprise."_

" _You mentioned that," the red Autobot said, "But what-"_

_A finger cut across his vision, interrupting Hot Shot. Uncertainly, he followed it, dipping his helm to look under the vendor's sign. His optics brightened as they did, shutting off his vocalizer to silence the squeal that was just about to erupt. The stadium was not so empty as Hot Shot had originally thought: across the large arena were some of the Iacon Wreckers star players, giving a tour it seemed to none other than_ The _Optimus Prime._

" _I-it's him! It's really him! He's alive?!," Hot Shot gushed softly, jostling his tires up against his buddies in excitement. "This is fragging unbelievable!"_

" _Figured you'd love it," Scorch grinned._

" _Yeah, Scorch overheard some of the Elders gossiping 'bout how Prime magically came back to life," JetBash explained, flicking pearls of dust from his wrist sockets in boredom. "And seeing as you've heard the sparkling tales of his at least, oh, I dunno, like a million times, we thought you'd get a kick out of this. Didn't think you'd actually lube over the big honcho. He your type?"_

_Scorch reached across the roof and punched the cackling youngling hard. Hot Shot took part in glaring at the white youngling this time. Before his mood could be completely soured though, the yellow Autobot was rolling one of his rims, drawing the smaller mech's attention back forward. "Sorry we gotta stick to sneaking glimpses but this is big news," Scorch shared. "Apparently the Prime returned not that long ago. Survived an assassin attempt from the council itself! Anyways, they're setting up a string of social events for his great return to Cybertron. I overheard that several game matches are in the roster."_

_Hot Shot let out a tiny bit of a squeal before he muffled it a second time, peeking under the vendor sign to continue studying Optimus Prime, the hero of his favourite newspark recharge tales. Optics glittering with excitement, the red youngling made a silent wish to one orn actually meet the Prime face-to-face, while his two friends hunkered in closer to partake in the spying._

**xXx**

"...Absorption complete!"

The drone's declaration was drowned out by the swell of cheering, a crowd of small Earth children swarming the tiny square of cement towards the two Cybertronians standing in the center, cycling a little harder following their game. "For the love of Solus!," High Tide grumbled, as a few of the kids weaved through his massive legs, "Ya space barnacles need to stay on the sidelines!"

Wedge, surrounded by a dozen smiling faces himself, chuckled at the older mech's griping. "They're just excited, sir. Bet they've never seen a real Cybertronian game before," he said, lowering the deactivated cube to their reaching hands. The children squealed as they grabbed the game piece, shouting out a garbled variation of his designation in their national tongue, before tearing out of the courtyard with the cube.

"That?!," High Tide scoffed, approaching the recruit as the last of the stragglers disappeared out of sight, "Cube ain't a real game- it's a newsparks' activity. Meant for keeping them distracted and out of tripping range. It doesn't take much skill to play."

"For a skill-less game, I sure as slag wiped the floor with you," Wedge smirked.

The old seamech paused at the jab, bursting out into raucous laughter as he pounded the triple-changer's shoulder tires good-naturedly. "Aye, you got me there, skipper. But if you ever want a real challenge, you know where I dock," he grinned, giving the orange youngling's tire one final squeeze, "I'll set up you proper with a rousing round of Lob-ball or even a set of Conquer. And if you're really looking to get humbled, try me on some of my best ocean dives."

"I look forward to it, sir," Wedge replied.

High Tide's expression softened for a moment, gazing down upon the recruit with something akin to pride shining in his optics. At the sight of it, Wedge felt himself straighten up further, his spark expanding joyfully. As quick as it had come though, it was gone again, leaving the blue mech to turn away slightly as he reset his vocalizer with an awkward click.

"Alright, that's enough slacking off for me. I have a ship to keep shapely," High Tide said. "Enjoy the rest of your orn, skipper, and I'll see you on our next lesson."

"Have a great one, sir," Wedge called out as the veteran left, casting back one final glance and a wave as he marched off towards Faxian's docks. High Tide had barely left when the recruit's comm beeped. "Yes?," he answered, starting a languid stroll back to base.

"Ah, Wedge," Blades vocalizer chirped over the line, "How was your game with High Tide?"

"Good. We had a great round. Sadly, he grouched a lot about not being very nimble," Wedge chuckled. "He promised to show me a real challenge next time."

"Didn't I say he'd taken a shine to you? I don't think I've seen the old sea dog like anyone as much as he does you," the helicopter giggled in turn.

Wedge couldn't help that his smile grew a couple inches wider as he came up to the base bunker doors. "Yeah. I know I've said it before but... uh... thank you, Professor Blades. Really. I-i don't know what would have happened if... Coming here, to Faxian, with you and the other mentors, it's been really life-changing for me," he added, his tone growing softer as he spoke. "It's given me a lot to think about, you know?"

Over the comm, he heard Blade's vocalizer become a touch more gentler as well. "I'm glad to hear that you've finally found your rhythm here. Though, I think it's time we discussed some important changes."

"What," the triple-changer started hesitantly, pressing a palm against the base's security door lock, "Kind of changes?"

The bunker door had barely risen the entire way when the youngling found himself freezing in place, optics burning brightly in shock. On the other side of the doorway stood Blades, patiently waiting it seemed, alongside two other 'bots. "Only good things, I promise," Blades smiled, adding to their current conversation.

Towering over nearly all of them, Optimus Prime smiled as well, his optics lighting on the startled recruit with an equally as kind expression. "I concur, young Wedge. Not all changes are negative and a future like yours is one worth supporting," the truck-former stated, his vocalizer reverberating with gentle power.

Wedge grinned foolishly. "O-of course. Sir."

**xXx**

"Wait a klik, this... this isn't Cybertron." Hot Shot paused on the other side of the space bridge, his optics adjusting to the dimmer lighting as he looked over his surroundings in confusion. The walls were a deep green shade here; a series of exterior, long phosphorous bulbs offering illumination instead of the usual inlaid-pot lights. Not to mention everything smelled heavily of Earth's pine trees and the youngling could _swear_ he heard non-stop birdsong echoing from beyond the room.

"You are indeed correct," Boulder replied, already over at the bridge's control panel, "This base is just one of a few Cybertronian-friendly establishments here on Earth. We've been slowly expanding, hoping to implement more Rescue Bot teams in key areas around the planet as we work toward building further connections with the humans."

"I... what?," Hot Shor so eloquently remarked, his perplexion only growing. "I-i thought Milford and Griffin Rock were the only places you guys have been!"

"Quite the contrary," the green mech answered. "There are several more Rescue Bots that you recruits have yet to meet, that we planned to pair you off with in due time, but that's something to discuss for another orn. Our little detour is over and it's time to move on."

The space bridge hummed again as Boulder finished resetting their coordinates; joining the youngling up on the platform. "I-i... I just don't understand, sir," Hot Shot mumbled, a servo rubbing at his forehelm as a processor ache began to build, "There's other Rescue Bots? A-and why did we have to detour here to get to Wedge?"

The older Autobot gave the recruit an encouraging smile, gently nudging him into walking side-by-side through the swirling portal. "Let's not worry about that right now," he told his confused companion.

His helm was really starting to ache with the influx of sudden information; still, Hot Shot stumbled along after Boulder, initially relieved when they walked into a room with gleaming metal and straight-cut lines -a look far more Cybertronian than their last destination. All the same, something felt... off.

"This... this is still Earth, isn't it?!," Hot Shot cried out in dismay, noticing the tiny equipment tucked neatly to the side and the shorter doorways cut more appropriately to a human's size. "P-professor, yo-you said you'd take me to where Wedge is!"

Boulder was in the middle of heading for the singular doorway fit for a Cybertronian, leading it looked, into a larger warehouse space. "I never said he was on Cybertron," the bulldozer rebutted, glancing back at the recruit.

His processor reeling, the red youngling broke into a jog to keep up with his teacher's long strides. "B-but... Heatwave said-"

"Heatwave lied," Boulder confessed with a frown, "To save from having to explain the real circumstances of Wedge's departure. And Chase only echoed what he was told."

Hot Shot nearly tripped over his own pedes at the truth that his mentor had lied to him, feeling as though another weight had been added to his already heavy spark. "S-sir, I..."

"Well, well, well," interrupted an unfamiliar vocalizer. A _femme's_ vocalizer. "This will certainly complicate things."

Hot Shot peered around Boulder's large torso as the green mech came to a pause, his optics staring up at the silver Autobot in shock.

"Quickshadow," Boulder greeted, "It's been a while. I'm sorry to be blunt -we need to see Blades."

The aforementioned Quickshadow glanced coolly from the bulldozer, down towards the multi-changer peeking around the other Autobot's wide pedes. "He is on the eastern side," she supplied, her pale optics having yet to leave Hot Shot. The youngling wanted to squirm under that unrelenting gaze. "But I'd say you've come at the worse time. He is in conference with you-know-who... and his newly appointed liaison."

The bulldozer cycled an intake unevenly, his shoulder treads tensing at the news. "Thank you for the update, Quickshadow," he replied, twisting in the direction that she had pointed, "C'mon, Hot Shot."

"Good luck," the femme called out as the pair broke off into a rapid pace.

When Hot Shot hesitated a glance back, he was startled to find the stranger had already disappeared. "W-who was that?!," he questioned worriedly.

"Later," was all Boulder said.

The recruit opened his mouth to speak, finding his words tangle somewhere up in his vocalizer as they stepped outside -into the bright, sunlit orn of a bustling city. Skyscrapers pierced the blue sky in rigid lines and twisting designs, glittering with silver and glass under the sun's rays, as small aerial drones buzzed above a sea of humans going about their lives and colourful projector screens shouted their messages in a strange language.

"Wow...," Hot Shot vented, in awe of the place.

Boulder patted his shoulder plating, drawing the youngling's attention back to him. "Here," the bulldozer informed, a finger pointing across the warehouse district. The multi-changer followed it, spark swelling when his optics lighted on an orange figure of similar size.

"Wedge!," he shouted exuberantly, sprinting down the street. The other recruit turned in alarm at the call of his name; Hot Shot opening his arms, eager to embrace the triple-changer.

He found himself falling to the street with a clang instead, scrapping his servos in the backwards tumble.

"O-ow! Wha...?"

"What the slag are you doing here?," Wedge demanded.

Hot Shot snapped his optics upward, shoulders arcing up to his helm in confusion at the glare on the orange recruit's face. "I-i... I, w-we, wanted to bring you back," the red youngling murmured uncertainly.

Wedge snarled derisively, folding his arms over his chestplates. "Oh, really? Well forgive me if I turn down such an offer."

"B-but, you belong on our team, Wedge!," Hot Shot protested, clumsily clambering back up on his pedes. He tried to smile at the other youngling, but it twisted weirdly on his face, looking more like a grimace than a smile. "W-we're all gonna graduate together, r-remember? Go a-and help people a-as a group!"

"We? _WE?_ There is no 'we'," Wedge shouted, his temper flaring. "You decided I was lesser than the dirt you walked on; you refused to look past the fact that I was protoformed bearing a Decepticon insignia -stuff I had no fragging control over! You have _no idea_ the life I lived before the war ended or what I suffered personally, yet you decided I wasn't worthy of redemption despite _everything_ we shared at the Academy. Because of you, I very nearly lost my chance to be a Rescue Bot -something I fought to even be considered for- and the only reason I'm still on this planet is thanks to Blades bringing me here, to learn under _his_ team. Now that I'm happy here, you're trying to rob me of that too? Do you realize how incredibly self-centered and selfish you are?!"

"T-that's not...," the multi-changer stuttered to reply, coolant filling his optics, "I-i'm trying-"

"Trying to 'what', Hot Shot?," the orange recruit snapped.

"Is everything okay here?"

The younglings both twisted to see Blades approaching them. On his heels, came Boulder, a second stranger... and Optimus Prime. Hot Shot felt himself go rigid in horror at the sight of his hero striding towards the recruits, brow furrowed slightly in an unreadable manner. "Wedge, what has happened?," the truck-former inquired, his optics looking first to the triple-changer then the to the red Autobot.

"Nothing, sir," Wedge answered through gritted denta, "Hot Shot was just giving me excuses for his former behaviour."

"Hot Shot," Optimus Prime pressed gently, "Would you care to elaborate?"

The red youngling's gaze flickered rapidly between his still-angry friend and the Prime, intakes cycling in faster and faster, yet the heat behind his optics only increasing in ferocity. His mouth flapped open and closed, his apology and a thousand other words dying on the tip of his glossa, as he remained the center of unwanted attention. Finally, his spark puttering to a stand still and trembling legs threatening to give out, did Hot Shot turn and run off, unable to hold the tears at bay a moment longer.

"Hot Shot!," Blades gasped as the recruit vanished. Frowning, he glanced briefly at his companions, uttering an "excuse me" before grabbing Wedge's arm and dragging him several feet away from the rest of the group.

"Hey! Let me go!," the triple-changer grouched, yanking to free himself.

Blades did not try to restrain the orange youngling again, though his disapproving scowl sure did the work for him. "Wedge, that was uncalled for," the helicopter said.

"What? _How?!_ ," Wedge cried out incredulously, "You know that he was the reason I left the Academy, Professor! He mistreated me based on the fact that I used to be a Decepticon- a fact that he only learned about recently. He decided me being part of such an 'evil side' far outweighed _anything_ I'd done since and judged me on _just_ that. Now, he's here 'cause the team is a mess no doubt and he just wants me back to save face and make his life easy again!"

"How do you know that's what he wants?," Blades returned, mouth pursing in unspoken ire. "You complain about him judging you but here you are doing the same to him! If you'd given him a chance, you would have known that he came to _apologize_."

Wedge refused to be cowed by this revelation. "If that was the case, then why didn't he just say it, huh?," the ex-Decepticon demanded. "He sure as slag can run his mouth any other time but not when it comes to admitting his wrong?!"

"I'd find it pretty hard to open up my spark to someone who refused to give me the chance to speak freely. Especially if that individual tried to publicly humiliate me at the same time," Blades scolded. "Yes, Hot Shot was wrong to treat you that way but he never made a show of the misguided hatred he had for your past. And now that he's here, trying to be better than he was, you keep interrupting him, belittling him and making a mockery of his feelings -all things that you, yourself, have regretfully experienced. You want a second chance? Well, that was it! Yet, you'd rather be a hypocrite than believe that maybe Hot Shot has really changed!"

The triple-changer hesitated to open his mouth, anger still burning in his spark but guilt wriggling a crooked digit through the embers. "... but I'm happy _here_ ," he hissed lowly, half-enraged, half-pleading.

The white mech's features finally softened, his optics dimmed in exhaustion. "I understand, Wedge," he replied, "And I won't force you to leave if you don't want to. You need to think though. Life, even in these war-less times, is so uncertain... Don't throw back second chances when they're handed to you."

"Now," Blades added with a sigh, "Go find Hot Shot. You need to go apologize for own recent behaviour at the very least. Whether you accept his apology in return is up to you but there is no need to be cruel."

The youngling felt his mouth turn downwards in a scowl, fists tightening at his sides. "Fine," he mumbled, not willing to start another argument with his teacher. He made no effort to hide his unhappiness as he stomped off to locate the wayward Hot Shot, ignoring all the older 'bots watching his departure.

**xXx**

Primus, he was so stupid.

Sobbing, Hot Shot staggered through the warehouses, all earlier charm and wonder lost on the recruit while his spark withered inside its chamber. He should have expected that Wedge would hate him for what he did yet the multi-changer had never thought that he'd be unable to get his apology out. Nor had he thought that Optimus would be there to judge the youngling for his disgusting actions. It was all too much... If he could just find the slagging space bridge than Hot Shot could finally be far away from this horrible place!

A fresh wave of coolant flooding his optics, the red recruit turned into another room, shuffling to a stop as he realized he'd come across the bridge room. As if perfectly timed, his comm began to beep.

"Hot Shot, where are you?," Scorch's vocalizer started, his displeasure evident over the line. "I didn't see you before curfew. You know, I'm really starting to think you're avoiding me."

Hot Shot winced at the cutting words, wishing he'd never answered his comm. "N-no, Scorch, I-i... I am j-just assisting Boulder w-with some things. I-i'll be at the Academy a-again soon."

"Well, I'm hurt that you wouldn't even let me know that you were going out on a mission with the professors. I had hoped to meet up with you after my classes finished. Do you treat your teammates like this too?," the yellow youngling sighed in mild exasperation.

Hot Shot nearly wailed aloud at the harsh criticism. His spark couldn't bear the brunt of yet another cruel judgment against it, not right now. "I-i'm sorry, Scorch, p-please, I... I didn't m-mean to-"

"Hot Shot, I'm concerned about you," Scorch's vocalizer cut in, sounding soft and sincere. "You're not acting like yourself. Remember when we used to sneak into the arena to watch our favourit teams play in the championship games? Or when we dinged ourselves up training for cycles, daring each other to ridiculous challenges, and falling down, laughing our afts off, after all was said and done? What happened to _that_ Hot Shot? That 'bot was courageous, fearless, outspoken... Someone I admired."

It was all lies, the multi-changer tried to tell himself, but the pro-star's words etched deeply into his processor, reminding him that he _had_ changed... and look where it had brought him.

"Let's talk to Heatwave tomorrow," the other youngling continued, his even tone pulling the aching recruit into its spell, "We should bunk together. You need some one-on-one time with a friend. Whatever you're going through, you don't have to do it alone, okay?"

"...b-but...," Hot Shot protested weakly.

"Wedge's betrayal has hit your whole team hard. I think it's been worse for you most though," Scorch continued. "You spent over a stellar cycle with this mech -you trusted him, worked with him, shared experiences with him. Then he turned out to be one of those _Decepticons_. If he was really innocent, he would have told you all who he really was from the start. Thankfully, he never had a chance to hurt any of you before he was outed. Do you think this was another plot to assassinate Optimus Prime?"

The red recruit shook his helm jerkily, wishing to contradict his old friend but finding himself uncertain. Was Wedge just a spy, sent here to keep an optic on Optimus Prime? "N-no, no, I-i don't...," he feebly trailed off, his processor ache magnifying triple-fold.

"Well, maybe not," Scorch acquiesced readily, "But it is suspicious that Wedge felt it necessary to hide his true identity from you all."

"I... I g-guess," Hot Shot mumbled, dazed, "Wedge-"

"You're right. I shouldn't be talking about him when your wounds are still fresh," the yellow youngling interrupted again. "I'm sorry. Finish your thing with the professor and hurry home. You'll need your rest for tomorrow. And then we'll go see Heatwave about rooming together. You should have someone that'll have your back at all times; someone who'll listen and help you out when you get stuck. You know, a real friend. Like me."

Hot Shot shuffled over to the space bridge's terminal, resting shaking servos on the control panel. Unlike at the Academy, it responded to any Cybertronian energy signature; the display lighting up in a myriad of colours, granting the multi-changer full access. It would be so easy to just press the button and activate the space bridge...

"Come home, Hot Shot," the alluring vocalizer called.

One servo still pressed on his comm, Hot Shot nodded to no one, his other servo tapping the panel and turning the bridge on. "O-okay, I... I am," he informed, a numbness overtaking him.

"Good," Scorch seemed to purr, "And if this place really doesn't work out for us, we can always head back to Cybertron. I only want the best for you, Hot Shot."

"O-of course," the red youngling replied meekly, standing before the open portal, "I know, Scorch. You're always right."

"I am. See you in the morning." And then Scorch had disconnected from the call. Clutching an arm despairingly, Hot Shot took his first step towards the swirling blue vortex...

**C.M.D: Dun-dun-daaaaaaa~**   
**Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	11. Chapter 11

**C.M.D: Still waiting to see if the remaining RBA episodes will be posted. So far, even checking my usual... non-mainstream... places shows no more to stream. If anyone knows of where to finish the series, feel free to drop a comment down below. In the meantime, enjoy my plot bunnies!**

Stepping through the space bridge was like walking through a sheet of warm water -frictionless and comforting. That's why the tugging pressure on his back tires panicked Hot Shot for a moment; impulse causing the recruit to throw himself forward in the hopes of correcting his balance and, instead, sending him tumbling out of the vortex and onto the next room's floor. "What the slag...?," the red youngling hissed, slowly lifting his face from the ground, realizing that the surrounding walls were _very_ green.

The stupid bridge had taken him to Boulder's secret base, not the Academy!

Groaning in frustration, Hot Shot kicked his pedes to stabilize them against the floor- and froze immediately when he heard something grunt in reply.

Neural net crackling, the recruit pulled himself a few inches forward before clambering back onto his pedes again, spinning around to see Wedge pushing himself up into a slow stand as well. "To the pit!," the triple-changer hissed, rubbing the side of his helm angrily, "Can't you stand without kicking 'bots, Hot Shot?"

His intakes were already cycling quicker when Hot Shot watched in horror as the space bridge deactivated behind his companion, leaving him effectively trapped alone with the other recruit. Glancing behind him at the same time, Wedge seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"Hot Shot-," he started, turning back to the red youngling.

He didn't get to finish his sentence as the smaller Autobot's engine squealed unnaturally; Hot Shot transforming and racing from the room in a panic. "Slaggit!," Wedge cursed, transforming himself, "Hot Shot! Wait!"

Engine rumbling, the sports car gunned it from the bridge room, roaring into the next chamber. A layer of dirt and debris kicked up in his wake, tires biting the uneven floor and propelling him forward faster as he shot through the darkened lab, chasing the ATV into the connected atrium. "Hot Shot, would you just stop!," he shouted over the open comms, horn honking angrily in time with his vocalizer.

The multi-changer did not reply, skidding around an obscure structure as he searched for another exit. The fortified gate of the atrium was shut tight though and the only open doorway was the one that Wedge had stopped in, transforming back to bipedal form when he saw that his comrade had nowhere to flee to. "Hot Shot," the orange youngling huffed, trying so hard to keep his anger from surfacing, "We... You need to stop running."

The ATV bounced on its tires as it rolled back and forth anxiously, headlights flickering and casting ghoulish shadows all across the room. "N-no," came Hot Shot's timid words, "No, no I-i'm not doing it! You w-wanted me gone; I'm going! W-why are you ch-chasing me?!"

Such a sound caused Wedge's neural net to crackle in discomfort. "I... I didn't say that. You know I didn't say it," he said, taking a slow step into the open room. The other vehicle squealed its engine fretfully, backing up against a pane of glass with a loud clack. The triple-changer halted in place at once.

"That's what you meant! You _hate_ me l-like I w-was hating you! A-and I deserve it too!," Hot Shot shouted, his vocalizer filling with bits of static as his emotions got the best of him. "I am a _monster_! E-everyone knows it! You, the team, O-optimus- I c-chose the wrong side and t-treated you horribly. I d-don't need you to ke-keep rubbing it in. I'll l-leave, j-just like e-everyone w-wants a-and then no one will have to p-put up with my s-stupid, s-selfish aft!"

Hearing some of his own words repeated in his companion's vocalizer made Wedge cringe in guilt. He had said those things and had meant them too... but that was before he'd overheard the tail end of Hot Shot's conversation with Scorch. Hearing that name alone had extinguished the remaining embers of his earlier rage. "I said some slag, that's true," the ex-Decepticon replied, servos held up placatingly towards the rocking ATV, as he hesitantly shuffled forward an inch, "But I sure as the pit never called you a 'monster'. I've _known_ monsters and you are not one of them, Hot Shot."

Headlights flickered on and off, forcing the orange youngling to shutter his optics partially or risk being blinded by the action.

"Was it Scorch that said that to you? Has he been comming you all this time I've been gone?," Wedge pressed, his lip components thinning into a tight scowl as the other recruit stalled in place at the question. "He has, hasn't he? Hot Shot, you can't listen to him."

"H-he is my friend!," Hot Shot returned desperately.

"He's a liar!," the triple-changer yelled, taking another step in his ire. "You can't seriously be running back to him!"

"T-that doesn't matter!," the multi-changer blasted through his speakers, his horn blaring loudly in between his protests. "He cares about me; he's the only one t-that doesn't blame me! H-he's all I have left!"

Wedge didn't realize he'd raced across the atrium until he was digging his servos into the ATV's bumper, holding on tightly even as the vehicle wriggled wildly on its tires, attempting to break free. "He doesn't _care_ about you, Hot Shot!," he shouted into the flashing headlights, yanking the ATV forward when it tipped precariously on its wheels as it continued to struggle. "He just wants to use you -in his berth or wherever else! You're just a slagging object to him; he'll hurt you the moment he finds something better! Why can't you see that?!"

"S-stop! L-lemme go!," Hot Shot squealed, engine hiccuping as his efforts to escape continued to fail.

"No, I won't!," the orange youngling growled, ignoring the stinging in his palms and the scraping of his pedes as his comrade continued to fight him. "I was wrong, okay?! I was wrong to say that slag and even more so for humiliating you in front of Optimus Prime and the others. I acted just as Decepticonly as you believed me to be and if this means the team is broken up for good, so be it."

"But you can't believe that slagger! _Please_ ," the triple-changer pleaded, a note of desperation seeping into his vocalizer, "Please, don't run back to Scorch. Anybody but _him_ , Hot Shot. _Please_. You're worth so much more than how he treats you."

The ATV had stilled once more, an unsettling silence falling between the two younglings. Servos trembling minutely, Wedge released his friend's bumper, stepping back quickly as fear and regret swelled in his spark. His glossa was pinned to the roof of his mouth, catching any of the words that might have slipped out just then, leaving Wedge to stare at the unresponsive vehicle as the astroseconds dragged on. All the orange recruit could think of was overhearing Hot Shot on that comm with Scorch, recalling how his friend had physically wilted before his optics, pressed into surrendering to that cruel youngling. The sight had terrified him just as much as hearing Hot Shot defend Scorch now did.

Tell him, a little voice whispered in the back of his helm.

His fuel tanks rattled hard, adding nausea to the list of physical afflictions Wedge currently had. He tried so hard to force his mouth open, reset his vocalizer and wiggle his glossa- but none of it was forthcoming and the Autobot still remained in alt-mode, his headlights glittering off swirls of settling dust in the unnatural calm. The triple-changer would have laughed miserably if he could. This was as good a rejection as any other.

"R-right, just..." Wedge lifted a servo and let it drop away weakly, turning on his heel and marching back to the space bridge room, thankful for the darkness between the two points. He paused as he entered the minimalistic chamber, aware that everything remained quiet behind himself. Vents heaving for an astrosecond, the orange youngling forced the trembles out of his frame and continued on to the control terminal; it was a short discovery to realize that the panel was coded and he couldn't just operate it at whim like back in Faxian.

Releasing a foul hiss, Wedge turned and slumped to the floor, his servos folding atop his bowed helm in defeat.

His chronometer had run over several kliks before a shy set of pedes tiptoed tinnily into the room.

"...i-is it broken?," Hot Shot murmured questioningly.

The triple-changer didn't have the energy to look up. "No. It requires a passcode, which none of us has, and Primus knows where exactly on the planet we are currently, so driving is out of the question."

"O-oh..." Soft shuffling as the multi-changer moved further into the room. "S-sorry you can't get away from me sooner."

A flicker of ire flashed through Wedge. He told himself not to rise to the callous comment, but he was already lifting his helm by the time reason tried to interject, glaring weakly at the smaller youngling sliding to the ground across from him. "You know, I'm getting really fragging tired of you acting like I want you snuffed," he said. "Believe it or not, I believed our friendship had meaning before my creation came into question. And maybe it still does, but I sure as slag am not going argue with stupidity to find out. You wanna go running off to a lube-stain that you yourself know is bad news? _Fine_. Do it! But don't you dare put that on me."

Hot Shot had the nerve to adopt his own sullen pout, crossing his arms over his chestplates angrily. "Friendship?! You've hazed me repeatedly ever since I arrived on Earth. Maybe it's been less these orns, but you certainly haven't stopped taking pot shots on my skills or making snide, lil' comments about my personality," the multi-changer argued.

The taller youngling nearly hit himself in the helm as he waved his servos incredulously at the statement. "We- we were doing it to each other, in good humor," Wedge rebutted, askance at what his companion was implying. "And, okay, yes, I was a definite hard-aft when you first joined. I'm sorry, okay? I, I was reared believing that you had to be prepared at all times, keep to your training and never slip-up. You were so... lazy, in comparison to everything I was forged into thinking, but you _changed_ my mind, Hot Shot. You showed me how wrong I was and how great of a Rescuer you really could become. _Are_ becoming. I would never do anything to try and knock you down, especially now."

"You... You're going to climb to great heights, Hot Shot," the triple-changer continued, his optics dropping to the floor as his tone softened, "And I'll be lucky if I'm there to see you reach them."

With his gaze turned away, Wedge missed the way that Hot Shot flinched at the words; his optics dimming as his cheekplates began to colour brightly. "Y-yeah, we-well I s-suppose that's something y-you and Heatwave h-have in common th-then. He t-thinks I'm s-so great now that he w-wants me l-looking a-after the first y-years in their down time," the red youngling remarked, an awkward chuckle escaping.

The ex-Decepticon glanced upwards suspiciously. "First years?," he inquired shortly.

Hot Shot couldn't maintain optic-contact with his companion; his gaze sliding off to the side as his nerve gave out, the uncomfortable smile he bore stretching another inch on his face. "U-um, yeah! Heatwave a-arranged for another b-batch of recruits to start t-their training since we w-will be graduating, supposedly, in the n-near future. S-scorch, uh, is among them."

The Autobot jumped in his spot as something cracked loudly in the quiet room, his helm snapping forward to find Wedge forcing his clenched fists to uncurl; a stream of strange vernacular growling out from between twisted lip components.

"W...w-what was that?!," Hot Shot asked, perplexed.

Wedge glanced up at the other recruit, hurrying to smooth the anger from his face. "...sorry," he managed to huff after an astrosecond, the tension clinging to his jaw still, "Just some words I learned from an old unit mate..."

The red youngling hesitated on correcting the triple-changer about his question, a muted curiosity taking hold of him. "W-who... What was your old team like?," he inquired quietly.

Wedge looked as though someone had told him he'd look better in pink. Shuttering his optics a few times stupidly, the ex-Decepticon eventually opened his mouth to answer his companion. "I... It's not a story you really want to hear, Hot Shot."

"T-they can't be that bad," Hot Shot smiled minutely, trying to be encouraging.

The taller recruit noticed and though he let a grin flash across his mouth for half an astrosecond, it was quick to disappear again as he shook his helm. "They weren't bad 'bots at all, really," he replied, venting heavily. "I-it's just... Most of them are gone now."

The multi-changer felt his spark sink to the bottom of its chamber, faint with shock and grief. "O-oh," he whispered into the choking silence. He couldn't imagine such a loss, and as Hot Shot stared across the room to the quiet recruit, he thought tearfully of how amazingly strong and courageous his friend was. And, once again, of how cruel he'd been toward the other youngling recently. Pulling his knees up to his chestplates, Hot Shot rested his chin upon a dinged joint, gnawing on his lower lip component mutely. "I...I t-think our team is pretty much done f-for as well," he confessed after a klik. "It... things just haven't been the same since you left. The professors know it, we know it... You were the foundation that our team was made on. And I'm not just saying that to be all 'boo-hoo, look how sad things are for me now' o-or any other attention-seeking slag, I-i mean it, honestly. You were like the glue keeping us all together. You should be have been made team leader. Permanently. You'd be the best fit for it."

It was alarming hearing Hot Shot talk like this. He had always wanted to be the center of attention; the hero of the story. Getting the role of 'team leader' had been in both of their sights non-stop, on every training run, on every mission. It was something that they almost fought over each time. So having the multi-changer admit that he couldn't cut it -let alone that he was willing to step down and let Wedge take the role- was stupefying to the ex-Decepticon. He was torn between being endlessly complimented by the admission or fearful of what it meant for Hot Shot's own future.

"We keep trying but we just... can't make it _work_ ," the smaller recruit was saying still, forcing Wedge to pay attention. Hot Shot was drilling holes into the floor with his gaze, optics taking on a chilling sheen as coolant began to rise. "N-no matter what we do. It... We can't be a team. H-hoist and Whirl can kinda ba-balance each other, a-and Medix is right, h-he'll fit wherever. H-he's a medic, after all. B-but me... t-the others... We're missing the most critical piece."

Hot Shot paused, hugging his legs tighter to his frame as he looked up at his companion with broken optics. "W-what are we supposed to do n-now that you're never coming back...?"

Wedge hesitated on replying, not sure even he knew the answer... When suddenly there came a loud pop and fizzle; the space bridge ripping open a hole in reality, dousing the entire room in blinding light. In unison, the recruits clambered up to their pedes, standing before the swirling vortex anxiously, just in time to see a taller figure move out from the bright core.

"They're here!," came Blades' relieved cry, a moment before the pair was scooped up and crushed in the helicopter's tight embrace.

"Oh, thank the Primes that you're both okay!," he sighed, pulling back to look at each of the younglings in turn, hugging them a second time. "I was so worried something bad had happened. How did you ever get here in the first place?!"

"T-that," Hot Shot piped up apprehensively, rubbing an arm as Blades finally took a step back, "That was m-my fault. I... t-the terminal w-worked a-and... I-i just wanted t-to get back to the A-academy b-but I didn't re-realize that the bridge was s-set for a d-different place a-and... Wedge f-followed me j-just to s-stop me from w-walking through. I-it's my fault that he's even here to b-begin with. P-please don't be mad w-with him, professor."

Blades shuttered his optics slowly, turning towards the other recruit curiously. "Wedge, is that true?," he asked.

From behind the white mech, came both Optimus and his newly-appointed liaison, Stormshot, watching the proceedings with unreadable expressions. Wedge stared up at the three, prominent Autobots, glancing briefly at his friend, who was curling into himself meekly, before straightening his frame and cycling a deep intake. "That's only partially true, professor, Prime," he replied respectively. He pretended he didn't notice how Hot Shot snapped his helm towards him in shock. "Yes, Hot Shot did access the bridge back in Faxian... but it's because I had bullied him horribly, back when you had all walked up on us outside, and I'd left him hurting after it. Hot Shot just wanted to get away from me... and it's my fault that he felt that running off, without anyone's knowledge, was the right course of action."

"Thank you, Wedge," Blades smiled kindly, "For clarifying that with us."

"Prime, sir," Stormshot mumbled, leaning towards Optimus inconspicuously, "I'm afraid that this does not bode well for the Rescue program initiative. These newsparks are not having their developmental needs addressed nor handled in the appropriate fashion. This is not an environment in which they can thrive. Perhaps it would be best to scrap the program; wait a few stellar cycles, smooth out the kinks and restart with an older group."

His spark was whirling into a frenzy at the poorly muted discussion, and a glance to his left, let Wedge know that Hot Shot was equally as horrified at himself at the notion of the Academy being shut down. Blades noticed their distress for he turned to the two other mechs, gently interjecting. "Stormshot, I'm sorry," Blades whispered, "But I really don't think that's something to bring up right now in front of the students. They've worked so hard to get here-"

"Here? One has been cast out by the headmaster of the program," Stormshot interrupted with a soft huff, "And the other is fleeing into an alien world because of a strenuous relationship caused by the latter. These are not good things, Blades, for both the program and the younglings."

"Indeed, Stormshot," Optimus said, his vocalizer steady and authoritative. He made no attempt to keep his words hushed. "This is not ideal circumstances at all. The program requires some tuning but it is unfair to punish the students for those failings. They have learned much, as we have seen from the monthly reports, but it is leniency -in self-expression and personal exploration- that needs to be implemented."

The Prime's optics fell on the recruits then, not once turning away or dimming as he continued to speak. "The new sparks have a capability to learn and an open mind that many on Cybertron no longer carry, given the scars of a past too soon ended to be forgotten. I believe that only they are the ones that can so readily adapt and integrate on this planet; the future that Cybertron needs will require us to bridge those gaps between our people and that of others in this never-ending universe. But, you are correct: Heatwave's structure is perhaps too limiting in our youngs' development. We will need to rectify this immediately with him if the program is to continue moving forward."

"Before that...," Optimus said, bending slightly to look upon Wedge alone. "Wedge, I'm afraid that -though you have excelled through all your studies thus far and are certain to graduate with honors- you are still without a team. A situation which we must tackle directly. A Rescue Bot does not work alone, after all."

So, this was it...

Wedge held an intake, his optics moving between the truck-former and the two older Autobots, to Hot Shot staring at him in worry, to the floor and then back to Optimus in several rotations. He thought about how amazing it was to be stationed in Faxian (not forced to hide that he was Cybertronian, learning under exceptionally skilled mentors, growing new bonds) and then recalled the first stellar cycle and a half of classes he'd undergone with Whirl, Hoist, and Medix, laughing and having fun... Only for his memory archives to replay clips of Hot Shot's smiles last, secretly treasured, and the spark-breaking question of a few kliks ago...

"That's not a problem that needs resolving, sir," the orange youngling eventually answered, onlining his optics to look head-on at the older mech. "I've already got a team."

The tension that had built in those few short moments dissipated at once; Optimus smiling down on the triple-changer as he stood to his full height, as if that had been the right answer all this time. And maybe it was. Stormshot seemed a little reluctant, but he was already compiling a list of rules and guidelines that needed to be discussed in the Academy's codex, while Optimus raised a servo to his commlink. Blades on the other hand, beamed brightly at the ex-Decepticon, giving his shoulder tire a tender squeeze as he whispered an excited "Good job!", before promptly getting on his own comm and updating Boulder on the turn of events. As the older Autobots turned to face the space bridge, Wedge felt something tap at his elbow hesitantly; glancing back he was not surprised to see that Hot Shot had drawn a few pedesteps closer.

"I-is... a-are you sure?," he asked in a nervous hush, struggling to keep his gaze up. "T-that you want t-to come back, I-i mean? You seemed r-really happy back i-in that other place."

There was so much Wedge wanted to say; his fingers twitching unnoticed by his side, longing to reach out and intertwine with the other recruit's dangling servo. Yet he kept them by his side, allowing instead a small smile to pull at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. I had a great time in Faxian... but they're not _my_ team. Hoist, and Whirl, and Medix... and you... are," he replied sincerely. "And the professors are right: I can't do this alone. I'm happy to go back if you are okay to have me."

Hot Shot shuttered his optics once, twice, before a lopsided grin split his face under tearful optics. "U-uh, ye-yeah," he vented unevenly, resetting his vocalizer to speak around the swelling knot in his neck cables. "N-no, I'm super okay with y-you coming back. Y-you're a R-rescue 'bot, f-forever and always!"

Chuckling, Wedge turned and walked through the space bridge at Blades' insistence, a wave of warmth washing out from his spark. It was both a relief and a joy to be heading back to the Academy, particularly knowing that Optimus was going to put Heatwave in his place for his own poor attitude over the last little while. It was a shame that the Prime couldn't do the same with Scorch. Of course, that was something that the orange youngling could handle on his own. The thought of being with his friends again, and stomping all over the pro-star's manipulative plans in the process, was already soothing the last of the pain that Wedge had been carrying unknowingly in his spark since Lazerbeak had first appeared. But...

There was another brush on his arm, this one lingering an astrosecond longer, before Hot Shot moved past; his optics shining brightly with a shy hope as he glanced quickly at the other recruit.

His spark pulsed and the triple-changer nearly stumbled to his knees. He never thought he'd see that sort of trust return to the red youngling's gaze ever again, let alone in so short a time. Maybe, Wedge mused to himself in mounting glee, things weren't so lost. Perhaps, him and Hot Shot could mean something more to each other. Increasing his pace, Wedge hurried to reach the end of the portal, eager to start another orn at the Academy once again.

**C.M.D: And that's it folks! Happy Valentine's Day~  
Be kind; gimme your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


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